Part 7 (2/2)
”Looks like a military camp,” said Ned.
”All but the guns,” replied Walter. ”We might stack our rifles outside here to make it look more military like.”
”Let's do it.” suggested Tad.
Laughing joyously, the lads got out their rifles, standing them on their stocks, with the muzzles together in front of the small tents. Not being equipped with bayonets the guns refused to stand alone, so they bound the muzzles together with twine wrapped about the sights. This held them firmly.
”There!” glowed Ned. ”Where's the flag? Somebody get that and I'll cut a pole for it,” suggested Tad Butler.
In a few moments Old Glory was waving idly in the gentle summer breeze and the boys, doffing their hats, gave three cheers and a tiger for it, in which Professor Zepplin joined with almost boyish enthusiasm.
”I always take off my hat to that beautiful flag,” said the Professor, gazing up at it admiringly.
”How about your own country's flag?” teased Ned.
”That is it. I am an American citizen. Your flag is my flag. And now that we have done homage to our country and our flag, supposing we consult our own bodily comfort by getting dinner. Of course, if you young gentlemen are not hungry we can skip the noon----”
”Not hungry? Did you ever hear of our skipping a meal when we could get it?” protested Walter.
”For a young man with a delicate appet.i.te, you do very well,”
laughed the Professor. ”It wag less than two months ago, if I remember correctly, that the doctors thought you were not going to live, you were so delicate.”
”Almost as delicate as Chunky now,” chuckled Ned maliciously.
The midday meal was more successful than had been their breakfast. They ate it under the trees, deciding to dine in the parlor tent just at dusk.
The afternoon was spent in shooting, at which the boys were becoming quite proficient. By this time, even Stacy Brown could be trusted to manage his own rifle without endangering the lives of his companions.
”Is there any game in these hills?” asked Ned, while he was refilling the magazine of his repeating rifle.
”Plenty of it, I am told,” replied the Professor. ”There is big game all over the state.”
”What kind?”
”Bears, mountain lions and the like.”
”W-h-e-w. That sounds interesting. May we go gunning to-morrow?”
”Better wait until the guide joins us. It will be best to have some one with us who understands the habits of the animals. As you have learned, hunting big game is not boys' play,” concluded the Professor.
”Yes, I remember our experience in hunting the cougar in the Rockies. I guess I'll wait.”
During the afternoon, the boys made short trips along the foothills hoping to find some trace of the guide, but search as they would they were unable to locate him. Nor did they dare stray far from the camp for fear of being unable to find their way back. The foothills all looked so alike that if one unfamiliar with them should lose his way he would find himself in a serious predicament.
”I guess we shall have to camp here for the rest of the summer,”
Professor Zepplin said, while they were eating their supper. ”We must be a long distance from our man if he has not heard our shooting this afternoon.”
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