carry on our machines, and then take pot-lock? How about that?" demanded Frank.
"Oh! well, have it your own way, fellows," declared Jerry, with a shrug of his shoulders; "you know my ideas about these things. I'm the kind of a sportsman who goes into the woods as light as possible—give me a frying pan, coffee pot, tin cup and a pie platter, some pepper and salt, some matches, a camp hatchet to cut browse for my bed, and my trusty rifle with which to supply the game, and I warrant you I can get along as well as the fellow who makes a pack-horse of himself, and totes all sorts of canned goods over the carries."
'That sounds all mighty well in theory, but there's mighty little practical sense about it. A blanket is the camper's best friend of a cool night; and even if he is lucky enough to shoot enough game to satisfy his wants, he'll get sick of one diet in a short time. I ought to know something about it, for I've tried it both ways," declared Frank.
"Yes," broke in Bluff at this juncture, "and vou wait and see if Jerry don't eat his share of every blessed thing we pack in—he won't refuse one dish. He's quite satisfied to turn up his nose at others carrying loads, while he goes free; but, at the same time, he eats a quarter of the grub every time."
