This catastrophe was witnessed with much astonishment.
"Great Cæsar—look at that!" cried Bob Somers.
"My eye! Did you ever see such a tumble?" exclaimed Hackett.
Then, as Sladder and Musgrove, almost up to their necks in the white mass, floundered and kicked to regain an upright position, Hackett, Nat Wingate and several of the others burst forth into the most uproarious peals of laughter.
"Bring a derrick," roared Nat. "Stand up straight, Musgrove. Don't you know enough not to dive on land?"
"He thought he was in a swimming race!" cried Hackett.
"'Tain't right ter plague a feller that way," reproved Yardsley, mildly. "Powerful singular I didn't happen ter mention that pit, ain't it? I guess the race is over."
"Lay on your back, and you won't sink any further, Mushroom," shouted Hackett.
To all these remarks Sladder and Musgrove paid no attention. They were too busy extricating themselves from their unpleasant predicament. Bowser had ambled to the edge of the pit, and, evidently realizing that something was amiss, barked dolefully.
At length, after having slipped and fallen several times, the two boys managed to reach solid ground. They brushed their clothes and came slowly back.
The others had expected to see Musgrove explode with wrath, but besides a queer expression in his small, blinking eyes, his pudgy face gave no evidence of anger.
"Got ahead of us that time, Pardsley," he observed. "I ain't saying what I think of nobody—no, sir—don't want to start a free fight, but say"—Billy Musgrove paused, the queer look in his eyes deepened, "there's goin' ter be some fun 'round these diggin's 'fore I leave—an' don't you forgit it."
"Powerful glad ter hear that," declared the trapper. "You kinder tempted me, the way you talked, a spell back. It's a failin' I've got. Now I want all hands ter grub with me."
The boys were soon compelled to acknowledge that John Yardsley was certainly a good cook. Baked beans, roasted potatoes, and venison steak done to a crisp turn were set before them, besides steaming coffee and hard-tack. At the last, to their great satisfaction, came buckwheat cakes and maple syrup.
Under the cheering influence of the fire and a company of lively boys, John Yardsley began to grow confidential. He freely admitted his superiority in skill over the majority of hunters and trappers.
"I study it, an' make a business of it,—that is I do for the present," he said, rubbing his hands together and tilting back in his chair, "an' I ain't done bad this season."
"Got lots of furs and skins, Spardsley?" inquired Musgrove, taking time enough to look up from his plate.
"Mebbe—mebbe not."
"Ain't that jest what you said?"
"You're a keen youngster, ain't yer?"
"I'm smarter than some people."
"Powerful glad ter hear it. One of these days I'll take ye boys around when I visit my traps,—only one at a time, mind ye. A hull lot might scare the critters away fur a month. Who wants ter go?"
"I do," said Bob, quickly.
"Being as it's you who spoke fust, you're number one," returned the trapper, nodding toward him.
"Good! You'll find me ready any time."
After the meal, Yardsley exhibited a number of beaver, otter and mink skins stretched out tightly on boards to dry. He also called attention to a curious piece of furniture standing in one corner. A section of a tree had been hollowed out, and the interior fitted with a number of shelves, which contained various objects collected in the woods. There were butterflies, moths and dragon flies, besides a number of minerals and stones.
"As I said afore," remarked the trapper, seating himself, "I ain't got as much book learnin' as I'd like," he smiled curiously, "but ask me somethin' about trees, or birds, or animals, an' well—mebbe I could make some of your dandified professors look cheap, if they was here. Eddication, I call it, is l'arnin' about the things 'round you—varmints and sich like—an' my friend, the animalist, said so, too."
"There's one thing you can do, all right, Bardsley," interrupted Musgrove.
"What's that?"
"Talk a fierce streak—I never heard nothing like it."
Yardsley laughed good-naturedly. "It's another failin', mebbe," he admitted. "Now I'm goin' ter spin some yarns."
These proved so interesting, that it was not until the late afternoon that the boys took their leave.
"An' look here, Jardsley," remarked Musgrove, at parting, "don't try no funny tricks now. We won't stand for none—no, sir—not me—nor Tim, neither."
"You certainly bit easily on one joke, Mushroom," remarked Hackett, when Yardsley's hut was lost to view behind the trees.
"Huh! You needn't talk! I never slammed no glass-eyed cat!" retorted Billy, and for the rest of the way there was no further conversation between the two.