“It can’t be too lively for me,” joyously proclaimed Stanley.
“It can for me,” soberly declared Bub. “I’ve been in the woods lots of times, and when you git way in things seem different. I shouldn’t be surprised if you had some of the starch taken out of your courage before you see the mills again.”
“Pooh, pooh,” belittled Stanley. “We’re four and need not be afraid of anything. I say, Abner, why do we carry so many rifles? I thought game was protected at this time of year.”
“Some critters are never protected by game laws,” grimly replied Abner.
“Bears and panthers?” hazarded Stanley.
“The bears won’t hurt us, I guess. And what ye call panther is at the worst the Canadian lynx, that only fights men when cornered. But there is other critters I won’t mention and hope we won’t meet. Here comes Noisy Charlie, on time to a second as usual.”
This was the guide, an Indian. He had been nicknamed “Noisy” because it was seldom one heard him speak. The lumber men thought it a good jest to represent him to strangers as being loquacious.
“This young man goes with us, Charlie,”
