Bub. “Take an ax. You won’t meet anything that needs a gun, and it would only mean you’d have to clean it up after you got back. Leave the gun in its case and take an ax, my son.”
“All right,” agreed Stanley. “Don’t worry about me. I can find my way back. See, it is about to clear up.” And he pointed to a rift in the clouds where a spear of sunshine was stabbing its way through to gladden the earth.
“Don’t leave the ridge, and be careful to keep along our blaze,” yawned Bub, feeling inclined to take a nap.
Abner lifted his head with a jerk. “Where ye going?” he sharply demanded.
“Only for a little stroll to get some of the mad out of my system?” sadly smiled Stanley, grasping the ax.
“I don’t blame ye. Follow the blaze due north and ye can’t get lost. And as I don’t relish the idee of staying behind with this magpie I’ll cruise over towards the enemy’s camp and see what they’re doing. Stay here, Bub, and keep camp.”
“Come back in good temper, Mister Whitten; and be careful that Big Nick doesn’t get a crack at you. Take a rifle?”
“No,” decided Abner. “I don’t figger on
