In fact, I’m striking it too high up. If I thought there was any chance of finding a rifle in the scoundrels’ camp by the river I’d rick cruising over there and making a try.”
“They wouldn’t leave their guns behind,” opposed Stanley, who had no desire to encounter the villains.
As they were leaving the hard wood growth both experienced a fright when a flying squirrel passed over their heads in gliding from a maple to a stunted oak.
Bub looked sheepish as he apologized, “It’s no wonder it scared you, but I ought not to have budged an inch. Guess I jumped three feet.”
“I could look over your head, so I must have jumped higher,” consoled Stanley. “The squirrel reminds me I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday noon. I’m faint.”
Bub puckered his brows thoughtfully and admitted, “I feel empty under the belt, too. Wonder if you could manage to eat raw partridge?”
“No, no,” protested Stanley, making a face.
“Then you can stand it a while longer. A man isn’t starving till he can eat raw meat.”
“I could eat with a relish a whole partridge if we had it and it was cooked,” insisted Stanley.
