Sam Randall soon came up, much disgusted at his poor luck.
"Not a thing the whole morning," he grumbled. "Say, Bob, when are we going off on that great hunt for deer—to-morrow, eh?"
"Of course!"
"Good! And I'll get something, if it's only a squirrel."
When the boys reached camp, they found all hands, including Sladder and Musgrove, around the fire.
"My eye, Somers! That's what I call a good sight!" exclaimed Hackett. "How did it happen? Did they fly down and say, 'Here I am—bang away,' or did you go after 'em with a pinch of salt?"
Bob laughed. "You're not the only crack shot here, 'Hatchet,'" he said. "What's the matter, Musgrove? You look sleepy."
"An' who wouldn't be sleepy?" responded Billy, with a terrific yawn. "Sich a night as me an' Tim put in."
"What was the matter?"
"Matter—say—" Musgrove lowered his voice, and his tone became strained. "Why, we hadn't no more'n turned in, when Bowser began to act queer—cry an' whine—an' of a sudden he flops down. Skeered?—I never seen nothing like it—no, sir. Then them there cries started again—wuss than ever, eh, Tim?"