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The trio ate joyously, washing the fare down with big draughts of tea, rather fussily prepared by Neal, which might have "done credit to many a Boston woman's afternoon tea-table" so young Garst said. Yet from time to time longing looks were cast at the low camp-door.
There was no figure of a moccasined forest hero on bench or in bunk. There was no Herb Heal. "Bless the fellow! Where on earth is he?" Garst exclaimed. "He's been here, you see, and has the camp provisioned and ready. Perhaps he's only prowling about in the woods near. I'll give him a 'Coo-hoo!"
I know you're level-headed, and plan every forest trip beforehand, to economize time." "Yes, a fellow likes to do that; it adds to the pleasures of anticipation," Garst answered. "But it's precious little use, after all, when you're visiting a region which is as full of surprises as an egg is full of meat.
No sooner had he scrambled to his legs, than Garst was at his side, gripping his arm, and forcing him forward at a headlong run. "You've done it this time with a vengeance!" bawled the Bostonian. "He's coming for us straight! And we without our rifles! The trees! The trees! It's our only chance!"
Garst, whose inches his juniors had hitherto coveted, was but a stripling beside Herb Heal. "Is this your first trip into Maine woods, younkers?" he asked. "Well, I guess you've come to the right place for sport. I'm sorry I wasn't on hand to welcome you when you arrived. A pretty forest guide you must have thought me. But I guess I'll show you a sight to-morrow that'll wipe out all scores."
"There's a pretty good calling-place near the south end of the lake. As this is the height of the season, we might get an answer there. We'll try it, anyhow, if you're willing." "Willing! I should say we are!" answered Garst. "You're our captain now, Herb, and it's a case of 'Follow my leader! Take us anywhere you like, through jungles or mud-swamps.
I ain't a-going to sell these, but I'll give 'em outright to the first fellow who can learn to call a moose successfully while he's hunting with me. I know what sort of sportsman Cyrus Garst is. He'll go prowling through the woods, starting moose and coolly letting 'em get off without spilling a drop of blood, while he's watching the length of their steps.
The biggest one I ever killed measured between seven and eight feet from the points of his hoofs to his shoulders, and the antlers were four feet and nine inches from tip to tip. He was a monster a regular jing-swizzler! A mighty queer way I got him too! I'll tell you all about it some other time." "Oh! you must," answered Garst.
There was a wicked rolling of Uncle Eb's eyes while he spoke. Evidently from the looks of the sportsmen he guessed immediately what had been the result of their excursion. "No luck and no buck to-night!" answered Garst. "But don't roast us, Uncle Eb. Get us something to eat quicker than lightning or we'll go for you at least we would if we weren't entirely played out.
He laughed long. He laughed insistently. His comrades were won to join in. When the fun had subsided, Garst said: "Herb Heal, old man, there's something in you to-night which reminds me of a line I'm rather stuck on." "Let's have it!" cried Herb. And Cyrus quoted: "As for this here earth, It takes lots of laffin' to keep things even!" "Now you've hit it!
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