He always was a good feeder."
"Bismarck?" ejaculated Frank.
"Why, you see, that's what he thinks, and he carries out the part to a
dot. Wait till you run up against him, if luck turns that way," replied
the other.
"He may have been injured in the storm?" suggested Will.
"Not he. Such a cunning fellow would know how to escape a wet back."
"Is he considered dangerous?" Bluff inquired, a little anxiously.
"Well, not particularly, although he can look mighty fierce, and would
terrify a timid person, possibly."
"And I guess Uncle Toby fills that bill, all right," said Bluff; "but
there's our camp through the trees, Mr. Smithson; and, as sure as you
live, there's a stranger standing poking at the fire where our cook is
bending down."
"Bismarck is making himself at home, all right," laughed the warden.
CHAPTER XVIII
A STRANGE VISITOR IN CAMP
"What can we do about it?" asked Will, looking alarmed.
"It's up to Mr. Smithson," remarked Frank, in a low tone.
"Look here, boys, you understand that I want to capture the gentleman
very much indeed. Are you willing to give me a little assistance?" asked
the warden.
"Why, to be sure we will. It looks as though we might have some interest
in his capture, too, judging by the way old Toby is loading up our good
grub in those frying pans to suit his appetite.
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