lad plastered each bird thickly with some clayey mud, and then
placed them in the fire to roast, or bake, as he called it. He
watched them with care and tried one frequently to see if it was done.

"Now I guess this will do," he said at last, and cracked the baked
mud from the grouse. With the mud came the feathers of the bird,
leaving the meat clean. The grouse was tender and juicy and done
to a turn.

"Giant, you'll have to get a job as a chef in a big hotel," said
the doctor's son, smacking his lips over the feast. "This game
certainly couldn't be, better."

"Why not leave some of the partridge right in the baked mud?"
suggested Snap. "It ought to keep well that way."

"We can try it," said Whopper.

The collie was given his share of the dinner and appeared to enjoy
it as much as the boys. He acted as if he felt perfectly at home
with the young hunters, and made no offer to leave them.

"If he wasn't such a fine dog I'd put him down as an outcast," said
Shep. "But nobody would abandon such a fine animal---he's worth
too much money."

Once again the boy hunters proceeded on their way. As they entered
the watercourse connecting the two lakes they noticed that the
current was flowing swiftly.