“You horrid things,” said Alice. “We’ll probably be eating breakfast food and canned peaches in the hotel. I hope you don’t get your old fish.”
“Ain’t that just like a girl!” said Bob.
They paddled slowly and reluctantly back, as the sunset lit the snow-fields on the great peaks to the east, and turned them pink. The supper gong rang as they landed.
“Now, Bob, be back right after supper, if you want to see that bear,” Mills called, and Joe and Bob hurried to their camp to get a quick supper.
All they bothered with was soup, some fried ham, and pancakes, with tea. They had large quantities of those things, however, and didn’t stop to wash the dishes.
“This is no time to be fussy,” Bob said. “I’ll never tell. We gotter see old Mr. Bear.”
So they hurried back to the trail, where Joe took out a handkerchief, and tied it to a branch.
“What’s the big idea?” Bob demanded.
“Well, it’s so dark here now you can just barely see the trail,” Joe said. “We could never tell where to turn off by the time we get back. Don’t want to be hunting all night for our camp.”
“I get you, Sherlocko,” Bob replied. “Now for the bear. Hurry up!”