The Outdoor Chums Part 7

"Has he got anything in his hands?" gasped Bluff, anxiously.

"Not that I can see," replied the other.

Bluff groaned and wrung his hands disconsolately.

"It's gone, boys! I'll never set eyes on that beauty again. Might as well give up and go back to town," he said, gloomily, as if brokenhearted.

"Oh! shucks! Don't give up so easy, Bluff. Who knows but that we may find a chance to recover the gun again, sooner or later. Live in hopes."

"It's easy for you to say that, Frank, when your gun is all safe and sound. Why, what can I do now without anything to shoot game with?"

"Well, I wouldn't worry about that. This is Kamp Kill Kare, you know.

Trust us to find plenty for you to do. There'll be fish and game to clean, and dishes to wash while Toby is busy at something else. Oh! you can be useful all right, I give you my word, Bluff," said Frank, gaily.

The aggrieved boy gave him one indignant look. He did not seem in a humor to trust himself to speech.

Meanwhile the aged darkey had entered the camp.

"Have you seen my repeating-gun, Toby?" demanded Bluff, striding up to him.

"'Deed an' I hasn't seen any gun since I jumped into de bush to find dem young raskils wot trowed dat stone at me. I war just a-wis.h.i.+n' I had a gun along. Wouldn't I jest a peppered dem scalawags as dey run past me?"

replied the old fellow.

"Say, did you see them then?" demanded Frank.

"I sh.o.r.e did, Ma.r.s.e Frank."

"How many were there?" came the quick question.

"I war jest a-countin' ob dem jailbirds, an' had 'rived at 'leven w'en a 'streperous root she keeled me ober. W'en I gits up agin dey had gone.

Den I heard Ma.r.s.e Frank a-callin' me to come back," went on Toby, glibly.

The boys looked at each other and smiled. They knew that without doubt he had been cowering close to the ground in mortal fear the whole time, for Uncle Toby had little reputation for bravery.

"Did you see any of them have a gun?" asked Bluff, faintly.

"I done t'ink de whole bunch hab guns; least-way dat was my 'pression at de time dat creeper done trip me up. It's lucky my haid is 'customed to hard knocks, or it split open for sure."

"That settles it; my new gun is gone. Oh! it makes me so mad just to think one of that crowd may be handling it," cried Bluff, shaking his fist.

"I just fancy I can hear the squirrels laughing, and the little chippies singing for joy," declared Jerry. "Now they'll have a chance to live.

What's hard on you, Bluff, is just happiness to them."

"You always did envy me the possession of that gun, and I know it, in spite of your sneers. You just thought I'd beat you out in making a record. Wait! I'm going to get that cracker-jack gun back again, some fine day," remarked Bluff, grimly.

And Frank, seeing that look of determination on his face, knew he meant it.

CHAPTER VII

THE SHACK OF THE MUSKRAT TRAPPER

"Wake up, everybody!"

Bang! bang! bang! went the big spoon on the frying pan Frank held.

As the others came crawling out of the tents they sniffed the air.

"Say, that bacon smells prime!" declared Will, smacking his lips.

"Hope you didn't forget about that mess of hominy I spoke about last night, Toby. Hominy's my great stand-by for breakfast. All right, I see it on the fire. Give me just five minutes. If it wasn't for that gun--"

"Talk about your Ambrosia, that Java sure has it knocked clean out,"

broke in Jerry. "Me for a quick-dressing act and then grub!"

Uncle Toby grinned, for he knew what appet.i.tes boys are apt to develop when in the woods, and, of course, he had made allowances.

They were soon gathered around the table and busy.

"What's the programme for to-day?" asked Frank, when the edge of their appet.i.tes had been taken away.

"First thing of all I want some snapshots of the camp in the morning sun.

You can see that's the best time to get a good view. Now, just sit still, fellows, and let me do my little trick," said Will.

They a.s.sumed grotesque positions, but the photographer refused to stand for that.

"What d'ye think I want, a collection of freaks broken loose from the lunatic asylum? Here, you, Will, be dis.h.i.+ng out some more bacon on to your plate; Frank, take up the coffee-pot and be helping Bluff. Uncle Toby, just look pleasant."

"Pretend you found my gun, and I was giving you half a dollar, Uncle Toby," remarked Bluff, quickly.

"Always thinking of that cheap, clap-trap affair," growled Jerry.

"Goodness knows if we'll hear anything else from him all the time we're in camp. I declare I've half a notion--"

"To do what?" asked Frank, looking at him suspiciously.

Jerry only smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Now, hold your positions, fellows. Frank, lean a little forward, so your face stands out better; there, that's right. Toby, raise your head and point up as if you saw a bird in that tree. That's good, all right; it's over. Thank you!"

Will kept his position for a little while, and every few minutes seemed to find a chance to snap off another view. He evidently believed in getting a variety of the main subject of their outing--the home camp.

"I move we try and find old Jesse Wilc.o.x this morning," suggested Frank.

"That suits me, if we don't have to go too far," agreed Jerry.