Prescott returned their salutes. On first meeting the officer in the morning the men saluted him, then again when he returned from the day's hunt. For the rest of the time, at Lieutenant Prescott's own request, they treated him like one of themselves.

"This sa.s.senach is threatening to murder me, Lieutenant," complained Kelly, "just because I showed him a pie and wouldn't let him eat it on the spot."

"That would be enough to make me commit murder, too, if I weren't a guest here," replied the lieutenant gravely, as he reached down the dipper and helped himself to a drink from the water bucket. "How many pies have you there?"

"Nine, sir, when the three in the oven come out."

"What kind?"

"Mince."

"Um-um-um!" quoth the officer.

"The sun's going so low now, Kelly, that I'm minded to let you live another day," broke in Sergeant Noll.

"Aw, that's just because there's company present," growled Kelly, with a side glance at the lieutenant.

"Supper ready?" hailed a distant voice.

"Will be, when you come in and fetch the wood to cook with," Slosson hailed back through his hands.

A growl of desperation came from the party headed by Corporal Hyman.

Then in they tramped, but they carried only their rifles.

"What have ye been doing the long day?" demanded Kelly, with a keen look at the party.

"Getting up an appet.i.te for supper," retorted Corporal Hyman.

"But the game?"

"'Twas so heavy we gave up carrying it," grinned Corporal Hyman.

"The boys back in barracks have had their mouths watering for game for days," grunted Slosson. "How'll we ever break the news to 'em?"

The soldiers shook their heads blankly.

"Want a suggestion as to the gentlest way of breaking the news back home, Slosson?" inquired Lieutenant Prescott.

"We'd surely be grateful for it, sir," answered Slosson.

"Then we'll coax Sergeant Overton to wire back requesting full rations for seventeen days for seventeen men."

"It'd be a bad trick, sir."

"How so?"

"The post commissary sergeant would be that mad he'd poison the grub, sir, before shipping it."

"I believe he would," agreed Mr. Prescott thoughtfully. "For the men back in barracks are looking for at least four tons of game food."

Bang! Bang!

"h.e.l.lo! What's that?" cried Noll, starting up and listening.

"Queer question for a soldier to be askin'," mocked Private Kelly.

Bang-bang-bang!

"Wirra, but that feller can't stop to take breath between his shooting,"

remarked Private Kelly.

"Those shots," declared Lieutenant Prescott, "sound out in the direction where I left Sergeant Overton."

"He's struck something," declared Noll gleefully.

"Some of us had better go out there," hinted Lieutenant Prescott, rising from the campstool that he had brought out from his tent. "Either the sergeant is in trouble, or else he's bagging a wagonload of game."

"Bang-bang!" sounded the distant rifle.

"He's moving, anyway, whoever he is," declared Sergeant Noll.

"h.e.l.lo, there!"

"'Lo yerselves!" yelled back Kelly.

Another group of men came, and right after them the remainder of the hunters save one.

Bang-bang!

"Now we know it's Sergeant Overton out there," announced Lieutenant Prescott. Then he turned to Noll.

"Sergeant Terry, you're in charge. What are you going to do about it?"

CHAPTER XVII

BIG GAME AND A NIGHT IN CAMP

"IT'S a bad time to follow through the woods," remarked Corporal Cotter.

"There goes the sun behind the tops."

"It'll be dark within five or six minutes more," said Noll. "If Hal Overton is running about in the woods, I think the best thing to do will be to run two lanterns up to the tree top, so that Overton can locate the camp. Then, if he's in any further difficulty, he'll fire the rifle signal. What do you think, lieutenant?"

"Nothing," replied Mr. Prescott promptly. "You're in temporary command here, Sergeant Terry."

"Run up the camp lights, Johnson," Noll directed.