few matches, Bumpus," replied the other,
wearily dropping his heavy rifle, that began to feel like a ton of lead.

"Matches! Why, you're the fire-maker; and I thought you'd take care of
that part of the business!" exclaimed Bumpus, looking a little alarmed.

"Why, what a silly you can be, Bumpus; don't you know I promised Thad
never to carry a single match around with me? And now, look what a fix
we're in, lost in the Maine woods, with night coming on, and gettin'
colder every minute; and not a single match to start a fire with. I see
our finish all right. When they find us some days from now, we'll be
just frozen stiff, that's what!"

The two tenderfeet looked at each other, but there was no smile on
either face now; for affairs had assumed too serious a phase to admit of
merriment.

CHAPTER XIX.

GIRAFFE TRIES FOR THE FOURTEENTH TIME.

"Whatever can we do, Giraffe?" asked Bumpus, presently, after he had
sighed several times, in a most forlorn way.

"Oh!" remarked the other, making out to be little concerned about the
matter, although his manner did not deceive the fat boy in the least,
for he knew Giraffe was worried greatly; "there are lots of things we
can do, all right; but you see the trouble is, Bumpus, they ain't agoin'
to help out much."

"We're in a tough hole, all right," grunted the other, disconsolately.

"Talk about Thad and Step Hen camping out;" Giraffe went on to say, "why
their troubles couldn't be mentioned in the same breath with ours, and
you know it. They had aplenty of matches along, and could get all the
blaze they wanted."

"And say, think of having the best part of a fine young buck to cook!"
burst out Bumpus, with another groan. "As for us, we've got the game all
right; but however can we get down to eating partridges that ain't ever
even been near a fire."

"Quit talkin' of eating, Bumpus; you fairly set me wild," declared the
tall boy, rubbing his empty stomach, as though its calls were growing
more insistent with a knowledge that they must pass unheeded now.

"Then you must be hungry?" suggested Bumpus.

"Hungry ain't no name for it," Giraffe replied. "That's always the way,
I've been told. When there ain't no water, a feller feels as if his
tongue was stickin' to the roof of his mouth. And Bumpus, bein' hungry
ain't the very worst of it, either!"

The fat boy sat up, and looked at his companion in misery as though
startled.

"What you mean, Giraffe, by slingin' t