"Ha, ha! Bully for you," roared Hackett. "Wow—that's a good one. 'Jack,' you're all right."
The station-master grinned, and looked at the boys with a mildly indulgent air.
"You certainly ain't a-going camping out, air you?" he asked.
"Of course we are," answered Bob. "But for that, we wouldn't be carrying around these guns."
"Jack" shook his head.
"A risky business—a purty risky business fur boys, I call it. Why, there's wolves—"
"And there's a gun all ready for 'em," interrupted John Hackett, holding up his rifle.
"An' wildcats."
"Well, we have some more guns."
"An'—an'—well, I call it a purty risky business. However, 'tain't none of my affair. Yonder right hand road takes yer to Sladder's."