“Well,” Jimmie retorted, “we had to keep that other fellow amused, didn’t we? That was one of the outlaws we’re after who was walking around in a forest ranger’s uniform, within a mile or two of where the fellow lay, and there was the possibility that he would blunder on the machine and spoil our game. We just had to get the aeroplane away.” “Of course the outlaw saw the chase,” suggested Kit. “I don’t doubt it,” answered Jimmie. Flying low so as not to be seen unless the pursuer should rise at a great altitude, Jimmie made his way to the little green bowl of a valley which had been deserted by Ben and Carl only a short time before. Scarcely believing his senses, the boy brought the _Louise_ to the ground and anxiously looked for some message, for it seemed highly improbable to him that the boys would have gone away without indicating their destination. Of course he found nothing of the kind. The only thing discovered about the little camp which in any way accounted for the absence of the _Bertha_ was quite a large heap of table scraps. Jimmie pointed to the pile with a grin. “They’ve had to go out after grub,” he explained. “I’ll just bet they had company for dinner and ate up everything we had. Then they went off to some little town on the Southern Pacific railroad to buy provisions. Wonder they wouldn’t leave some word!” he added impatiently. “Leave some word just like you did!” taunted Kit. “Well,” Jimmie said in an apologetic tone, “I expected to be back right off and I didn’t want to wake them up!” “Perhaps they expected to be back right off, too!” laughed Kit. “I’ll just tell you what I’m going to do right now!” Jimmie exclaimed. “I’m going up in the woods and get a bear steak. The meat will be all right yet, won’t it?” “I should say not!” replied Kit. “I know enough about hunting to know that that bear meat will be smelling like a slaughter house right now!” “Anyhow,” Jimmie insisted, “I’m going up and see about it!” Leaving Kit sitting by the machine, the boy hastened up to the place where the bear had been shot and stopped beside a heap of fur which lay on the ground at the foot of the tree. He gave the bearskin a little kick with his foot and then turned his eyes in the direction of the thicket. There was no sign of the carcass. The skin had been deftly removed, and nothing but such parts as were uneatable remained. Mournfully pressing his hands to the waistband of his trousers, the boy set his face toward the camp and sat down by Kit without a word. “Where’s your bear meat?” asked Kit with a grin. “Why didn’t you bring back a lot of it? You didn’t eat it raw, did you?” “It’s gone!” answered Jimmie. “Gone stale?” asked Kit. “Gone away!” grunted the other. “Well, who took it away?” “Search me,” was the answer. “There’s about a ton of perfectly good bear meat all gone to waste!” he continued.