the remark of Nick.

As the two squirrels were large and in excellent condition, it was
thought they would afford enough dinner for the boys, who went some
distance farther until they reached a small stream of clear, icy water,
where they decided to make their fire.

While Nick and Herbert busied themselves gathering some dry twigs and
sticks, Sam Harper, with his keen knife, skillfully skinned the
chickarees, dressed them, and then holding them over the flame on
green, forked sticks, they were soon cooked to a turn.

For a few minutes before they were ready, the odor of the broiling game
so sharpened the appetites of the boys that Nick sprang up, and,
hurrying out in the woods, shot another for Sam to dress and cook.

"Two ain't enough," he said in explanation, as he threw the last to his
friend; "I can eat a couple myself, and Bowser looks sort of faint."

"The waste parts ought to be enough for him," said Sam, glancing at the
hound, who had gulped down everything thrown him and was gazing
wistfully for the next tid-bits that should fall to his share.

The clear, pure air, the vigorous exercise, and the rugged health of the
boys gave them appetites scarcely less forceful than that of Bowser; and
when Nick had carefully sprinkled the seasoning over the juicy, crisp
flesh, and each, taking one of the squirrels in hand, began wrenching
off the tender meat, he was sure he had never tasted such a delicious
dinner in all his life.