They were all feeling unusually happy as they sat down to eat the midday meal. As a rule, this might be called a lunch; but with such ferocious appetites as all of them seemed to have developed since arriving in camp, it was necessary to do considerable cooking.
After all, no hunting party started out that afternoon. Jerry probably ate too heartily of the midday meal, for he complained of pains in his stomach and “guessed he had better lie around the rest of the day.”
He wanted Bluff and Frank to go, but the former was busy doctoring his heel, while Frank would not break the rule he had set and go alone.
“Besides,” Frank remarked, as he once more put his rifle away inside the cabin, and “hefted” the ax, as though meaning to have another spell with the firewood, “we’ve still plenty of that venison on hand. To-morrow will do just as well.”
Of course, that did not mean they expected to be idle the remainder of the day, for none of them liked to do nothing. Jerry and Will were gone a little while after the former had recovered from his indisposition.
“We found a place where I think a fox passes along a trail,” Jerry announced, on their return, “and to-night Will means to try and take his picture. I should think a fox would make a good one, if only you get him as well as you did the wolf.”
“And I’m much obliged to you for helping me, Jerry,” said Will earnestly.
“Oh, that’s all right!” was the reply. “It’s beginning to get interesting; and I can see how a fellow could easily develop a hobby like this.”
“It means matching your wits against the shyness and cunning of these little animals,” said Will proudly; “and when you’ve succeeded in getting their pictures, in spite of everything, you feel that you’ve done something more than just aiming a gun and pulling a trigger.”
Bluff shrugged his shoulders. He had his own opinion about that; but of course Will could never understand the thrill that comes to the sportsman when he is tracking his quarry, and has to meet the cunning or ferocity that is the common heritage of all wild animals.
But Frank knew all about it, and met Bluff’s look with a smile and a nod.
“Every one to his taste, Bluff,” Frank said. “We can’t all of us expect to be crazy over taking pictures. And at the same time it would be queer if every man wanted to be out in the woods all the time with a gun on his shoulder, as we do. But I can understand how Will feels, and in a small way share his pleasure.”