"Do you see Uncle Toby? I'll be blessed if he hasn't gone and made a
ladder, and has used it to climb up in that tree yonder," declared Jerry,
snickering.
"Sensible old Toby. If I had to make shift to be a monkey as often as he
has, I think I'd have a ladder, too. Saves considerable trouble, you see,
and the wear and tear on his clothes counts, too. But didn't we leave
Bluff in camp--I don't see anything of our pard, do you, boys?"
A sharp "click" close to Frank's ear announced that Will was at his old
tricks again. He had snapped off a view of the shaggy visitor squatted
there with the open kettle between his paws, scooping up its juicy
contents with evident relish. Canned corn was a treat that did not come
his way every day, and Bruin meant to make the most of his opportunity.
"I thought I had a glimpse of something moving over there back of the
tent, and it might be Bluff. I hope he don't try to shoo the old varmint
off before we get a whack at him. I've only got bird-shot in my gun but
at close quarters that ought to do as well as a bullet, eh, Frank?" asked
Jerry, excited at the prospect.
"Wait I've a notion that you may be surprised yet. I've also a hunch, my
boy, that there will be another claimant for the honors of this
campaign.
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