Bumpus allowed himself to once
more figure out a bill of fare that he would like to commence on, if he
only had the good fortune to sit down at a table in a first-class
restaurant. It seemed to give him untold satisfaction just to imagine
the heaping platters that were being brought before him in rapid
succession. Why, in his vivid imagination he could almost get the
delicious odors of the various dishes that had long been favorites with
him; particularly the liver and bacon and fried onions. Oh! how
tantalizing to suddenly arouse himself with a start, to look around at
the rapidly darkening scene of those lonely pine woods, and hear,
instead of the waiter's cheery voice, only that continual grinding
sound, as the boy with the never-give-up nature kept sawing away with
his miserable little bow; and the poor stick kept whirling back and
forwards with a violent motion, in the socket that held one end.

In the estimation of Bumpus, that was coming down from the sublime to
the ridiculous. He had little confidence in all this labor of Giraffe;
though goodness knows, that if ever success would prove a boon to a
couple of stranded hunters caught in the darkness of a wintry night,
with not a match in their possession, it was then.

CHAPTER XX.

THE LONG VIGIL OF A SCOUT.

It really looked to Bumpus as though sooner or later they must come to
climbing a tree, no matter how cold they found it on such a perch. And
as it would presently be dark, since night was rapidly coming on, he
wondered whether he would not be showing good judgment in selecting the
proper kind of a tree, while there was enough light to see by.

But before he started to look around him, he thought it worth while to
ascertain how his companion was doing; although to tell the truth Bumpus
did not have the slightest hope of any good news.

"Ain't you gettin' anywhere yet, Giraffe?" he asked, as he rose
clumsily, and wearily to his feet; for his short legs felt very stiff
after resting so long.

The other gave a grunt as he replied:

"Oh! don't bother me with such silly questions, Bumpus. You make me
think of that story of Blue Beard, where the old feller's a waitin' for
his last wife to come down, and get her head taken off; and she keeps
callin' to her sister, who's in the lookout tower: 'Sister Ann, Sister
Ann, don't you see anything comin'?'"

"But I want to know before I--" began Bumpus, when the other interrupted
him.

"You _will_ know a