Fellows, what need of words to explain what happened?" chuckled the
gratified Will.

Whenever he succeeded in securing a coveted picture the ardent
photographer was the happiest boy in the county. His pleasure caused him
to fairly bubble over with good nature.

"Tell me about that, will you!" said Jerry, pretending to scorn such an
exhibition of joy over so trivial a matter. "Why, you'd think the chap
had knocked over some big game, to hear him chatter."

"And so he had," declared Frank quickly, "according to his light. All of
us are not made alike, Jerry. One man's food is poison to another. You
and I are fond of fishing and shooting, but Will is more of an artist.
He delights in stalking the timid deer in the close season, and shooting
him with his camera. Lots of people believe his way of securing pleasure
beats ours all hollow."

"Anyhow, it doesn't thin out the game," asserted Will stoutly.

Jerry stopped short to turn a look of pity on his comrade.

"Think how hungry we'd all go out in camp if we depended on your blessed
old box for supper," he suggested witheringly.

"All very true," remarked Frank as they reached the other motorcycles,
and prepared to continue their interrupted journey to the camp of the
trapper; "which is proof of what I say, that many men, many minds.
There's room for all kinds in a party."