"I wonder if we could not shoot some game," suggested Walter.
"That's a good idea. But, is there any game here?"
"I heard an owl last night," said Stacy.
"We haven't got down to owls yet. We may when we get hungry enough,"
returned Ned. "I think I'll take my rifle and go out gunning."
"Do you think the Professor would like you to do that?" questioned
Walter.
"I am sure he would not wish us to starve. There must be some kind of
game in these mountains that's fit to eat. I'll shoot almost anything
that comes along."
"Don't you get lost, now," cautioned Walter.
"No danger. And I'll bring back something to eat, you take my word
for that."
Ned, with rifle thrown over his left arm, stepped boldly from the
camp, heading west, reasoning that this direction would take him into
the heart of the mountains where he would be more likely to find game.
An hour passed; then they heard a gun.
"He's shot something," exulted Walter.
"At something, you mean," corrected Chunky.
A second shot followed quickly on the first, then a third one.
"Guess you're right, Chunky," smiled Walter.
Later on they heard three more shots.
"That sounded a long way off," mused Walter. "I'm afraid he is
getting too far from camp."
Chunky nodded thoughtfully.
"He thinks he can shoot, but he can't. I wish I had a fish line.
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