Summary

Silas K. Boone Phil Bradley's Snow-shoe Trail…

Bodman had no intention of risking a shot, for he moved away clumsily on his snow-shoes, with which he was no adept, it appeared.
X-Ray chuckled as though tremendously amused.
“Just hear him growling like a bear with a sore head, will you, Phil? My stars! but he does hate a fellow who has the gall to sass him to his face. I guess he’s so swelled up with a sense of his importance, that he expects everybody to fall to trembling when he says so high and mighty like: ‘I am James Bodman, huh!’”
“I feel that I did the right thing, X-Ray,” said Phil, working away industriously.
Source: Gutenberg

Silas K. Boone Phil Bradley's Snow-shoe Trail…

After all X-Ray was right about those clouds, although he did not claim to be a weather prophet, as he had once done. Even as they sat there and made away with the fine breakfast that had been prepared a bright ray of sunlight fell aslant the party; and looking out they could see that the snow had a dazzling appearance.
“Bully for that!” cried X-Ray; “if I didn’t have my breakfast in my lap I’d feel like jumping up and dancing a hornpipe for joy. That means we’ll soon be starting forth on our snow-shoes, eh, Phil?”
Source: Gutenberg

Silas K. Boone Phil Bradley's Snow-shoe Trail…

If the bear steak was hard to masticate, at the same time it was a camp dinner, not one served on a damask tablecloth, with cut-glass, and silver, and napkins to boot!
“Well, it’s coming along at last, fellows!” announced X-Ray Tyson, about the time they had finished their meal.
“What’s that you’re referring to?” demanded Ethan; while Lub looked hastily on all sides of him, just as though he half expected to see the mate of his bear standing there on the border of the camp, and sniffing at the odor of cooked meat that still hung around the scene.
Source: Gutenberg

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