"Sho! Know much about gunning?" asked Mr. Sladder, incautiously.
"Do we know much about gunning?" echoed John, with withering sarcasm. "Well, say—I've had a few tilts with wildcats, myself, and I'm here yet."
"Um—you can't always tell by looks," said Mr. Sladder, anxious to appease the tall youth's ire. "My son Tim—too bad he ain't here—is a born hunter. The way that boy can shoot and trap! Why, it's an undeniable fact that there ain't nobody in town can beat him. If the young gentlemen want a few good points where to go fur game—"
"Yes—that's the idea!" cried Bob, enthusiastically, drawing forth his map.
Hiram Sladder spread it out on a near-by table.
Surrounded by all save Dave Brandon, he placed a very broad finger on a spot indicating the position of Mapleton, then slowly passed it along the course of a river, and finally stopped at a lake.
Then he said: "Thereabouts! No better place in the state of Wisconsin."
"Plenty of wildcats, and wolves, I hope," said Hackett, with a sly glance toward Tom Clifton.
"Why bless you, you may get more'n you bargain for," replied the hotel keeper. "Now in my younger days—"
"Hiram, it's ready! An' I guess the boys is too," interrupted Mrs. Sladder, at this interesting point.