"Oh! shucks! Don't give up so easy, Bluff. Who knows but that we may find
a chance to recover the gun again, sooner or later. Live in hopes."
"It's easy for you to say that, Frank, when your gun is all safe and
sound. Why, what can I do now without anything to shoot game with?"
"Well, I wouldn't worry about that. This is Kamp Kill Kare, you know.
Trust us to find plenty for you to do. There'll be fish and game to
clean, and dishes to wash while Toby is busy at something else. Oh! you
can be useful all right, I give you my word, Bluff," said Frank, gaily.
The aggrieved boy gave him one indignant look. He did not seem in a humor
to trust himself to speech.
Meanwhile the aged darkey had entered the camp.
"Have you seen my repeating-gun, Toby?" demanded Bluff, striding
up to him.
"'Deed an' I hasn't seen any gun since I jumped into de bush to find dem
young raskils wot trowed dat stone at me. I war just a-wishin' I had a
gun along. Wouldn't I jest a peppered dem scalawags as dey run past me?"
replied the old fellow.
"Say, did you see them then?" demanded Frank.
"I shore did, Marse Frank."
"How many were there?" came the quick question.
"I war jest a-countin' ob dem jailbirds, an' had 'rived at 'leven w'en a
'streperous root she keeled me ober.
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