"How did you happen to see it?" asked Joe, as they approached the pile of boxes.
"Why, it ran out just as I stooped over to put some wood on the fire. Then, when it saw me, it ran back again."
"What was it? How big was it?" Joe wanted to know.
"Well, it was pretty big," said Blake, "and it looked like a muskrat, as much as anything."
"Maybe it was a muskrat," Joe suggested. "There must be a lot of 'em in this river, especially since they've been driven out of their homes by the high water."
"Are muskrats good to eat?" asked Blake.
"Why, yes, I've heard of people eating them," Joe replied, doubtfully. "Why do you ask?"
"Because we might have to eat 'em," Blake went on, with a grim look coming over his face. "I'm not going to starve."
"It isn't much fun," admitted Joe.
"You go over there, and tear down the pile of boxes," suggested Blake, "and I'll stand ready to pop at it when the beast comes out."
"All right," assented Joe.
One by one he took away the empty boxes, tossing them aside. He was soon down near the bottom of the pile.
