such times was carried to the nostrils of the suspicious game long
before the hunters came in sight.

Finally they came across some partridges, and Bumpus managed to bag a
couple with two shots from his new gun. He was greatly elated by the
success attending his efforts, even though Giraffe did mention something
about the birds insisting on remaining on the branch of that tree so
long that they must either have been frozen there, or else wanted to
commit suicide.

"Well, they came to the right place, then," said Bumpus, sturdily, as he
crammed new shells in his gun; "I'm the feller to help every partridge
and deer pass over the divide, that feels like going. Bring on your
game; now we're going some!"

But as the afternoon began to wane they had a shot at nothing else,
though once Giraffe became excited, and declared he had caught a glimpse
of a deer making off in the distance.

"Now, ain't it a shame," he went on to say, "how that deer just knew we
were coming? Seems like somebody went ahead with a trumpet, and
announced that two hunters were on the trail. After that they all hike
out. But seems to me it's getting some cold right now, Bumpus. My
fingers begin to tingle."

"Told you to wear the old mitts Step Hen offered you, but you sneered at
the idea. I'm feeling pretty cold myself, considerin' that I'm on the
move all the time. Say, where are we anyhow, and how far from the camp?"

Giraffe looked blankly at Bumpus.

"Here's the compass, and we c'n see which way is north, all right. Then
east is off that way on the right, south around yonder, and west here.
But where in the dickens is that camp, south, north or east? Honest,
Bumpus, I don't know!"

"No more do I, Giraffe," replied the other. "And d'ye know, this makes
me think of that Injun that got lost, and was found, half starved, by
some white men; but he was too proud to admit his little shortcoming; so
when they asked him if he hadn't kinder managed to get twisted in his
bearings, he slaps his breast with his hand, take a pose like this, and
says he: 'Injun not lost; wigwam lost; Injun _here_!' And we're
like that Injun, Giraffe; oh! no, we're not lost one little bit, because
we know we're here. But I just can't amble on any longer. Suppose we
stop and camp. These partridges will taste prime. Yum! yum, can't get at
'em too soon to please me. Get busy, and light a fire, Giraffe; that's
your part of the contract always."

"I sure will, if you give me a