"Somers will tell you what a corking good shot it was. I'd like to see any one in this crowd beat it," he declared, decisively, as the story was concluded.
"Them fawns, if yer runs acrost 'em at the proper age, are easy tamed," said John Yardsley.
"What beautiful eyes," remarked Tom Clifton, admiringly.
"And pretty head," added Dick. "What are you going to do with it, 'Hatchet'?"
"It goes back to Kingswood, and will walk around my governor's lawn, larger than life."
"Are we going to stand here gabbing all day?" asked Bob, with a comical grimace. "Talk about feeling hungry—and tired—and cold."
"That's so! You sure had a fierce time of it!" exclaimed Yardsley, apologetically. "Come with me, an' I'll make a spread fur the hull crowd—that I will."
This arrangement was gladly acceded to, especially as the last spread had been one to be remembered.
Every one was glad when the cabin came in view, and still more glad when a fire was started. While Tom Clifton and Dick Travers assisted the hunter, the rest discussed the various events which had befallen them.
"No, I ain't seen them fellers 'crost the lake," snapped Billy Musgrove, in answer to a question. "Ain't pertic'lar 'bout it, neither. No, sir; Piker an' Jobson got too fresh. Say, what d'ye think Jobson says ter me?" A peculiarly injured expression crossed his face, and, for a moment, a pair of small eyes blinked angrily. "He says, 'Muzzy, yer got the biggest mouth I ever seen.' Honest, he did, Springate—them was his words."