"Shows how much good sense they've got not to want to have yer along," remarked Slater. "I seen ye a-hangin' 'round me camp twice this week, an' that's twice too much. An' now, lads," he added, turning toward the others, "ye have Jere Slater's best wishes, an' I only hopes—"
"They bags a hull lot o' game," broke in Pete. A most astonishing grimace distorted his face. "Them mountains is full o'—o'—all kinds o' waluable warmints an' sich like. If you an' me, Cap'n, could only git a crack at sumphin, eh?"
"What's a-gittin' inter the feller's top-piece?" asked Slater, with a wondering stare. "Never yit seen anything human put on sich a face as that—it's nuff to hurt a man's eyes fur keeps; mine is a-blinkin' now."
The hour for leaving had arrived. Presently the party began walking toward the boys' cabin.
Even Jack felt his nerves tingling with excitement. He gave a sigh of relief when their stuff had been carried outside, then turned for a final look at the cozy interior.
"Makes me feel kind of blue," he confided to Tommy. "We've certainly had a dandy time here—did you speak, Mr. Lovell?"
"I was saying," remarked the lumberman, with a smile, "that our friend"—he nodded toward Dave—"will no doubt find a great deal of interest to write about."
"Dave Brandon's wonderful work will come out in forty volumes," chuckled Tim, who had overheard. "Why, Uncle Stanley, you don't know how fine life in a lumber camp really is until you've read what he has to say about it."
At the edge of the bluff Bob gave a loud yell, the others chiming in.
An answering hail came from the "Osprey." A sailor was soon seen jumping into a boat which swung astern. He cast off the lines and began to row ashore.