“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.  W’en I gits up agin dey had gone.  Den I heard Marse Frank a-callin’ me to come back,” went on Toby, glibly.

The boys looked at each other and smiled.  They knew that without doubt he had been cowering close to the ground in mortal fear the whole time, for Uncle Toby had little reputation for bravery.

“Did you see any of them have a gun?” asked Bluff, faintly.

“I done t’ink de whole bunch hab guns; least-way dat was my ’pression at de time dat creeper done trip me up.  It’s lucky my haid is ’customed to hard knocks, or it split open for sure.”

“That settles it; my new gun is gone.  Oh! it makes me so mad just to think one of that crowd may be handling it,” cried Bluff, shaking his fist.

“I just fancy I can hear the squirrels laughing, and the little chippies singing for joy,” declared Jerry.  “Now they’ll have a chance to live.  What’s hard on you, Bluff, is just happiness to them.”

“You always did envy me the possession of that gun, and I know it, in spite of your sneers.  You just thought I’d beat you out in making a record.  Wait!  I’m going to get that cracker-jack gun back again, some fine day,” remarked Bluff, grimly.

And Frank, seeing that look of determination on his face, knew he meant it.

CHAPTER VII

THE SHACK OF THE MUSKRAT TRAPPER

“Wake up, everybody!”

Bang! bang! bang! went the big spoon on the frying pan Frank held.

As the others came crawling out of the tents they sniffed the air.