“Never mind, Joe; don’t look so worried, we’ll have birds for supper,” said one of the men, as he arose from the table and began filling his hunting vest with shells. The snap of the barrel of a shotgun brought all three dogs up with a bound, so eager were they to feel the feathers of a retrieve. At sundown, when the tired men and still more weary dogs came dragging themselves back into camp, each bore evidence of his spoils. Through the carriers were hung the limp-stretched necks of a covey, while the several feathers still sticking to the dogs’ jaws, proved how faithfully and well they had done their work. “Come with me Miss—Miss Flet—” “Just call me Bess, it’s easier.” “Miss Bess, if you will come with me we’ll give the dogs their supper,” said “Peter Pan,” as she led the way to where the dog biscuits had been placed. The dogs were all seated on their haunches waiting with hungry stomachs for their meal. “These are dreadfully hard things to feed you, poor dogs,” said the tiny girl, as she tried in vain to break the biscuits. “I’m glad I’m not a dog, aren’t you, Miss Bess? But then, this kind of biscuit is good for a dog, ’cause they make him take aim better. Charge, Jack!” she cried to the hungry dog who could not wait for her discourse to be finished as he took his supper out of her hand and hurried away to find an undisturbed place to enjoy it. It was dark before the birds were ready for the table, and supper was eaten by the aid of numerous candles and lanterns. All were weary, so after the plans for the morrow had been made and everything made secure in camp for the night, each sought his couch and slept; some to dream, perhaps of feasts and plenty, or of ringing shots and pointing dogs; one to dream of “comfy” trousers and handy pockets; another to see in her sleep’s vision, the flaming, dilated nostrils of a fleeing horse and the dark, determined face of his relentless rider. CHAPTER XXI THE TROUT DEAL As soon as Bess heard the breakfast fire cracking she crept out of her bed and hurriedly dressed herself. “Peter Pan” begged her softly, so that the other sleepers might not be disturbed, to “Wait a min’t for me.” They looked like two hungry birds as they perched on a log near where Joe was preparing breakfast. Snug in their red sweaters and tams they sat with arms entwined about each other, already fast and true friends. “Did you ever see Mr. George ‘flop’ pan-cakes?” questioned “Peter Pan,” as she saw with utter satisfaction a creamy mixture being stirred by the cook. “No? Well, I’ll have him give a free exhibition this morning immediately before the big performance,” added the child, with artful mimicry of the man she had heard at the circus during the summer.