"Let that other crowd get as far ahead of us as possible," proposed Dick Travers. "It may take them longer to get back, for I'm sure they don't intend to give us any more peace than they can help."
"I think we can afford to forget them for a while," said Bob. "And now, boys, what do you think of building a brush camp, or lean-to?"
"Just the thing," exclaimed Sam Randall, enthusiastically.
A dense2 wood surrounded the valley. Through its cool and shady recesses3, the dark, rich greens of firs and cedars4 could be seen.
"Why not build a lean-to right in the midst of them?" asked Tom Clifton.
"Old Bill Agnew said it was better to camp in the open whenever possible."
"Why so?"
"On account of insects and because it is generally safer. That ridge5 over there looks like a good place. It has a gentle slope, which will be just the thing for our bough6 beds."
"Oh ho, it seems to me there is nothing but work," groaned7 Dave, with a yawn. "Why not sleep on the ground?"
"You lazy duffer!" exclaimed Dick. "Come on; think what fun you'll have making all these things."
"I feel in a generous mood," laughed Dave. "I'm perfectly8 willing to give you all my share."
The ridge lay some distance inland, but from its elevated position, the motor boat could be kept in view.
Lots were drawn10. To Tom and Dick fell the task of cutting poles and collecting brush for the lean-to, while Dave, with a terrible grimace11, set about chopping sufficient fire-wood for their present needs. Bob Somers and Sam Randall took their guns and started to look for game.
"Let's skirt along the river, if possible," suggested Bob; "perhaps we may get a shot at some ducks."
"Agreed," said Sam; "but that underbrush looks a little thick right here; I guess we'll have to go around."
The boys found that it was not an easy matter to push their way along in any given direction. Growth of all kinds was luxuriant. Tangled12 vines, provided by nature with very sharp little thorns, continually impeded13 their progress, besides causing much discomfort14, as it was hard to entirely15 avoid them.
They were careful to keep their guns pointed16 away from each other, and to keep the triggers free from low-hanging branches or underbrush.
At length, after a detour17, the greenish expanse of river flashed in view between the tree trunks.
Suddenly a low whirring sound, directly in front, startled both hunters. A flock of ruffed grouse18 rose and flew with lightning-like rapidity among the trees.
"Too late," sighed Bob, lowering his gun. "Next time we must be better prepared."
"Yes, and what a supper we missed," said Sam, regretfully.
They had now come to an open space. Beyond it, along the shore of the river, was a thick clump19 of trees.
"Do I see anything over there?" asked Sam.
"Looks like a lot of birds," answered Bob.
"Hope we'll surprise the fellows with a fine brace20 of something."
"So do I. Look out, Sam. Don't make so much noise."
"My foot slipped on a stone," said young Randall, apologetically.
The boys worked their way forward with the greatest care.
"Just a little further," said Sam, in scarcely audible tones; "then, oh my, what a supper we may have."
"Don't talk," admonished21 Bob.
He took a long survey through his field-glass.
"Wood-ducks," he whispered, in a scarcely audible voice.
Sam's eyes sparkled. With the utmost care, he followed in Bob's footsteps.
The two finally concealed22 themselves in the midst of a patch of tall, rank grass and reeds. Not daring to even whisper, they slowly crawled forward, never, for an instant, exposing any part of their bodies to view.
Both being good shots, it looked as if their patience would be rewarded.
But, to their consternation23, just at the critical moment, when they were well within range, a shot rang out loudly, followed by a perfect fusillade of others.
The ducks, with cries of alarm, arose en masse, flying swiftly away, while Bob and Sam jumped to their feet, in the greatest disappointment.
"Those miserable24 fellows again!" exclaimed the former, angrily.
The "Nimrod" had rounded a point.
"Fine hunters, to shoot at such long range as that," grumbled25 Sam. "What a nuisance they are."
"They spoil everything," declared Bob, in disgusted tones.
Disconsolately26, the return trip was begun.
A series of harsh, rasping cries, issuing from the dim recesses of the woods, betokened27 the presence of a blue jay, while at intervals29 sounded the tap-tap of that busy workman of the forest—the woodpecker.
They concluded to return by the same route, in the hope of stirring up some other game. Fortune favored them this time, a couple of squirrels being bagged, which partly reconciled them to their previous disappointment.
They found, upon returning to camp, that the three other Ramblers had not been idle. Dave pointed with pride to a large pile of wood, while Tom and Dick showed equal satisfaction in exhibiting a mass of pine boughs30, besides a number of poles. Nor was this all. Reposing31 on a flat stone were three good-sized fish.
"Where did you get them?" queried32 Bob, in pleased surprise.
"Just a little way up the river," responded Dick Travers, proudly.
"We can now have a meal fit for a king," exclaimed Sam.
"How are you going to cook the fish?" asked Tom.
"Oh, I know," said Bob. "Let's find a couple of flat stones, fellows."
"I saw some down near the river," put in Dick.
He sped off, with Tom at his heels.
"That's the idea," said Bob, as each returned, lugging33 a good-sized stone. "Now for a fire!"
When it was burning brightly, the stones were placed in the middle of it.
"What is that for?" asked Tom.
"When they get hot as blazes," explained Bob, with a smile, "I'm going to put the fish between 'em, cover the whole business with hot coals, and let our supper bake."
"Another Bill Agnew act," laughed Dave.
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