Back in the woods they made a fire, where Jerry succeeded in drying his clothes.

“Anyhow, I saved that fish,” he announced, with a satisfied shake of the head.

Will looked at the cowboy inquiringly.

“Sure thing he did.  When he came ashore he had that line fast in his hand, and pulled the trout in before he’d even shake.  He’s a real sport, all right,” said Reddy, with admiration in his manner.

“It seems as though these things are born in one.  Now, I’d have dropped my rod the very first thing, and howled for help,” remarked Will.

“How about your camera?” asked Jerry wickedly.

“H’m!  That’s a different thing.  But when I saw you go in I did let that fall.  Luckily, no damage was done.  My heart would be broken if the blessed little black box got out of shape.  But I’ve one picture of you on that log,” announced Will.

“And that will be enough to give me a clammy feeling every time I look at it,” nodded Jerry, who was in secret more shaken by his recent terrible experience than he cared to show.

They went down a little later, Jerry carrying his two dearly-earned trout.  And when the others praised the fisherman that evening at supper for supplying their camp table, they little dreamed how near their hard-working chum had come to disaster in his efforts to land the enticing finny beauties of the river.

Besides the trout, they enjoyed mutton that night, for Frank’s mountain sheep was brought into use.  Perhaps it was tough, perhaps the flavor did not strike the boys quite as favorably as some mutton they had eaten at home, but such trifles could not dampen their enthusiasm a particle, and they voted the meal a grand success all around.

Seated about the blaze afterward, they chatted until late.  Bluff was inclined to be a bit moody, and sat by himself, listening to all that was said, but taking no share in the conversation.

Frank noticed that he seemed to fondle his rifle more than usual, and he believed the other must be thinking of the elk he had shot, but which had been stolen by those wandering thieves of Crees.

“He’s still worrying about that butcher knife of his,” whispered Jerry, nudging Frank as he spoke.  “I wonder will the fellow ever forget it?”

“Now, I was watching him, and, to tell the truth, I fancy Bluff has become aroused to the delight of bringing down big game.  That elk was a revelation to him.  See how he listens while Billy is telling of the panther tracks he saw not a great way off.  I wouldn’t put it past Bluff to aspire to knocking over a panther if the chance ever came his way.

“Huh!  I hope he is lucky enough to get a fatal shot in, then; for one of those gentry is apt to maul a fellow good and hard if only wounded.  Billy has been telling of some fierce times he’s had with the beasts.  His arms are all scarred up from deep cuts made by the claws of a panther years ago,” remarked Jerry.