hunting-knife, or else pretended to be. He shrugged his shoulders in
that scornful way he had, and turned his back on the prize Bluff had
drawn.

"What else could you expect of a man who goes after quail with a Gatling
gun? Why, the poor innocent grizzly will faint dead away at sight of
that cavalry sword. It gives me a cold chill just to look at it," he
observed.

Bluff only laughed.

"Rank envy eating up your soul, that's all, my boy. Wait till you see me
in action with that razor-edged tool. I'll have you all turning green
with envy yet," he said, fondling the ivory-handled weapon ere he thrust
it back into its sheath.

The days dragged along. Will counted them, and each night heaved a sigh
of relief that they were a notch nearer the time of departure. Finally
the last night arrived, and their coming tour was to be marked by a
little gathering at the home of Frank, which was intended to be in the
way of a send-off.




CHAPTER V

WESTWARD BOUND