When they saw that the dawn had really come the boys began to move around. Phil led the way to the border of the lake near by and they took an early morning duck. The water was pretty chilly, but then growing lads can stand almost anything. No doubt some of them may even on a dare have braved a skim of new ice on a pond in the early spring.

After a bit, when they had finished their dressing, preparations for breakfast came next in order. Things began to look decidedly comfortable about that time. They forgot all unpleasant things, and the rattle of tongues would have made any one believe in the story of the Tower of Babel.

Every one had his plans laid out, and numerous pet schemes to work. Phil of course meant to roam around the neighborhood, and see what discoveries he could make in connection with the haunts of small animals, or places where they "used," to speak after the manner of a hunter or trapper.

If he could find such a favorite spot it was his plan to set his trap on the succeeding night, with the intention, not of harming the creature, but getting him to touch off the flashlight, and thus take his own picture.

Lub's enthusiasm seemed to have petered out, in that he manifested no immediate intention of climbing to the roof of the cabin. The truth of the matter was, Lub always showed a disposition to put things off; procrastination was one of his greatest faults, even as too much haste had always been X-Ray Tyson's besetting sin. There was the whole day before him; so what need of undue speed. Taking things easy had become second nature with Lub. Besides, as a final argument, he had gorged himself with the fine breakfast, which of course he had helped to cook; and it would be too bad to risk indigestion while on this outing.

So Lub just lay around, and bothered some of the others by asking innumerable questions. Still, he was always willing to assist if called upon, and for that he was forgiven his lazy habits.

It was toward the middle of the morning when Phil came back again, after roaming around. His manner gave them to understand that he had met with some success.

"Find any place to make your lay-out to-night, Phil?" asked Lub.

"Yes, one splendid spot where a 'coon seems to travel down to the water's edge, to fish, or something or other," Phil replied. "You can see his tracks going and coming as plain as anything. I've marked a place where I can tie my camera, and fix the bait so he'll have to be in range when the flash comes. This afternoon I'm meaning to go further afoot, and see if I can run across bigger game."

"You certainly look as if you enjoyed this sort of thing," ventured Lub, a little enviously; for he often wished that he had it in him to love tramping, and all that pertained to woodland sports.

"Why, it seems to grow on you," admitted Phil, with considerable animation. "In the start I didn't care a great deal about it, and sometimes called myself silly to want to spend so much time trying to circumvent little animals, and get a flashlight picture of them. It's hard work, too, because they're not only shy but cunning as well. What little I've managed to do along that line has made me keen on the subject. And right now I believe I'd rather shoot a moose with a camera than with my Marlin rifle."

Ethan laughed a little, and shook his head.

"I confess that I don't understand it, Phil," he went on to say. "The real thrill must be lacking. You can only get it when you're bent on bagging your game. That's the thrill that comes down to us from our savage ancestors who had to live by hunting."

"I'm able to judge of that, Ethan, because I've tried both ways; and I give you my word I feel just as much pleasure when I'm trying to outwit a cunning fox as you do when you trap one. I get his picture, and you have his pelt, that's all the difference."

"Well," replied Ethan with a grin, "when that same pelt brings you in more than a cool three hundred, it makes considerable difference in the end."

Lub began to make faces, and swallow very fast at hearing that, as though he had come near choking; but in fact it was to keep from chuckling, and thus arousing suspicion in the mind of the hoodwinked Ethan.

"I noticed you down on your hands and knees, Ethan, over where we thought we saw that moving figure of a man last night," Phil went on to say, changing the subject hastily, partly from the same reason that influenced Lub to cough and gasp; "did you find out anything?"

At that the other assumed a mysterious air.

"Well, first of all, we weren't mistaken, you want to know, boys," he remarked.

"Then it was a sure-enough man?" asked Lub, beginning to be deeply interested.

"That's what it was," Ethan assured him. "I found his trail as easy as turning over my hand. Even followed it some ways off, but lost the same among the rocks. When we saw him turn away he didn't come back again, but kept straight on."

"He must have been watching us through one of the windows?" suggested Lub.

"If he was, he made up his mind we were too many for him to tackle, and that he had better clear out for good," Ethan continued, as though he had been figuring it all out beforehand, and had his mind made up.

"Do you think he could have been the same party who was in our cabin before we came along, Phil?" asked Lub.

"It looks that way," the other told him. "If this man had just been a stranger, up here to try the fishing, or something like that, he would have knocked on the door, and tried to make our acquaintance. As it was, he watched us, and then cleared out."

"Let's hope he won't think to come back again," Lub pursued.

"Better hurry and get that strainer fixed on the top of our chimney, Lub," advised Ethan, a little maliciously; "first a bear, and the next thing to drop down on us might be a real man."

"Oh! leave that to me," the other assured him; "I haven't quite figured it out in my mind just how I'll fix it, but after lunch I'll get busy. And believe me, when the Fenwick screen is applied, not even a 'possum or a squirrel can invade our cabin home. It'll be impervious to man or beast."

"Better get out a patent right away on the thing then, Lub," he was advised by the scoffing Ethan, "or some wise duck will be stealing the idea from you."

"Where's X-Ray?" asked Phil, suddenly noticing that the fourth member of the camping expedition was missing.

Ethan looked at Lub, inquiringly.

"You see I was so busy reading the signs of that trail I never once thought a thing about any one else. Lub, you must have seen where he went, didn't you?"

"Last I saw of him he was down on the lake shore," replied the other. "He had his fishing rod along, and I understood him to say he meant to look for some grasshoppers or crickets or something for bait, because he felt trout hungry."

"X-Ray has a weakness for fish, you know," Ethan declared. "He said he'd be the boss fisherman of the bunch while we were up here, and even dared me to take him up, the one to win who could show the greatest number, biggest variety, and the heaviest fish of all that were taken. I think I'll go him, if I can find time to bother."

"And I'll encourage you both to the limit," chuckled Lub; "because that means we're bound to have all the fine trout we can eat while we're here. May the best man win. I know how to cook 'em to beat the band, by rolling each trout in cracker crumbs, and then frying in hot grease from fat salt pork. Makes my mouth fairly water just to mention it."

"We won't forget that, Lub," Ethan told him; "and you can consider that you're hereby appointed the official fish frying man of the lot. For if there's anything I hate to cook it's fish. Eating's another story, and I always try to do my duty there."

"I thought I heard some one call out then," said Lub, looking around him.

"Must have been a crow cawing, or a gray squirrel barking," suggested Ethan.

They listened for a dozen seconds, but heard nothing.

"I reckon I was mistaken about it," admitted Lub, finally; "only I wondered if X-Ray could have tumbled into any sort of trouble. He's spry enough as a rule, and not built like me."

"No danger of him not letting off a whoop if he ran up against anything like a rough deal," Ethan ventured.

"Still, no harm done if we stepped down to the edge of the water, and took a little look around," suggested Phil. "We've none of us paid any attention to the lake so far, only to take that early morning dip in the same. It seems to be about a quarter of a mile across to the further shore, and with lots of bays and nooks, as well as points of land jutting out like fingers. I'd think it was a splendid piece of water for trout; and I'm glad I own some land fronting on Lake Surprise."

As they turned in the direction of the edge of the water Lub's eyes were frequently cast upward toward the rude chimney that surmounted the back of the cabin wall. Evidently he was endeavoring to figure out just how he might accomplish the task he had taken upon his shoulders, and arrange things, so that while the smoke had free access to the open air, all manner of intruders would be kept out.

When Lub did undertake anything, no matter how simple, he was apt to throw his whole heart and soul into the accomplishment of the same. To him it meant that his reputation was at stake; unless he made good his chums would have the laugh on him for a long time to come.

Ethan happened to be in the lead as they advanced. That may have accounted for the fact that it was him who brought them to a sudden standstill by throwing up a warning hand, and exclaiming sharply:

"What's that I hear? Sounds mighty like the drip of a paddle to me!"

"And there's a line moving out from the shore!" added Phil, pointing; "there's something back of that point, and moving in the water. Perhaps it may only be an old mother duck with her little brood. No, there it goes again. Ethan, you're right about it; that's the dip of a paddle!"

"Whoever's got a canoe up here, they're heading this way, because you can see from the ripples," Ethan continued, eagerly; for versed in many of the secrets of woodcraft the boy was quick to notice which way the successive ripples were moving.

"Watch now, because he's going to push out from behind that tongue of wooded land!" said Phil, sharply.

All of them stood there as if rooted to the spot. Their eyes were glued on the point mentioned by Phil, and back of which must be the canoe that was sending all those ripples forth, away from the land.

"There it comes!" breathed Lub, who was holding his breath, and consequently getting, frightfully red in the face.

They could see the raised prow of what looked to be a genuine birch bark canoe poke in sight. In these modern days when even the Indians up in Maine manufacture up-to-date canvas canoes by the thousand, it is a rare event to run across one made of birch bark. The trees that are large enough for the purpose have about all been destroyed, so the Indians claim, which accounts for the revolution in canoes.

Further and further moved the boat. Now half of its length was seen, then two-thirds, and finally the stern had passed the end of the point. The three watchers could now see that it was being softly driven by a paddler who sat in the stern, and wielded a single blade.

All of them stared, and Lub, strange to say was the first to find utterance so as to voice his surprise.

"Why, Phil, Ethan, don't you see who it is?" he ejaculated; "who but our chum, X-Ray Tyson, sitting there as big as life, and heading straight toward us! Where under the sun d'ye reckon he found that canoe; and whose can it be?"



CHAPTER VIII

THE MOUNTAIN BOYS IN CAMP

"Whoopee! Hello, X-Ray, where'd you pick it up?"

When Ethan called this out the paddler waved at them, and laughed.

"Wait till I push her nose up on that fine sandy beach, and I'll tell you all about it, boys," he answered.

Two minutes later and the prow of the birch bark canoe glided softly up on the shore. Laying his paddle down in the boat X-Ray proceeded to pass along toward the bow, so that he could step out without getting his feet wet. Meanwhile Lub was looking the canoe over, noting that it seemed to be in very good condition, and not at all weather worn, as though it had been lying in the bushes for several winters and summers.

"I ran across her," the finder started in to explain, "while I was pushing along through the scrub, meaning to get to a certain point. I'd picked up some hoppers and crickets, and wanted to give the trout a try, to see if they were hungry. Whoever owned the boat had hid her away; and not so long ago, either, for there was a wet streak on her keel that no rain had made. She was lying bottom-up, of course."

"Have you been fishing in the canoe all this time?" asked Phil, sniffing the air, and then stepping forward to look for himself; upon which X-Ray bent over and lifted out a string of a dozen pretty fair-sized trout.

"How's that for a starter, eh, Ethan?" he demanded joyously. "Think you can beat that for a beginning? Right back of that point there's the boss bay; and say, you couldn't drop in a stone without hitting a trout, they're that thick. I stuck right in the same place all along; no need to move around."

"You got a fine mess, though I believe I could eat that many myself," ventured Lub, eyeing the string hungrily.

"Oh! we can get all we want," he was told; "it's only a question of finding the bait. They're just asking to be taken on. It's hit and come with them as soon as you drop your line in. The bait hardly sinks a foot before it's taken. I never saw anything like it in all my life. And fight, say, they bent my rod double lots of times. I lost more'n I saved."

"But about the canoe," Phil went on to say, "the chances are it must belong to whoever was in our cabin before we came."

"That stands to reason, seems to me," Ethan agreed.

"Well, he had the use of your shack, goodness knows how long, Phil," said Lub, with an imitation of his father's solemn manner when delivering an opinion from the bench; "and it's only fair you have the use of his boat. Tit for tat, you know. One balances the other. Besides, we are not supposed to know whose boat it is."

"There's something else I wanted to tell you about," remarked X-Ray.

He was thrusting a hand inside his coat as he spoke; and when it came out again the others saw that it held something like a buff colored envelope, torn open.

"Now, I found this same when I was nosing around," he explained. "It was caught tight away under this seat in the bow, and must have been blown there by the wind."

"Looks like one of those telegraph envelopes," remarked Lub.

"Which is exactly what it is," said X-Ray Tyson, as he offered the object in question to Phil. "There's an enclosure inside; read it, and see what you can make of the same. It got me balled up a whole lot, I'm telling you."

Phil quickly had the enclosure out. It was a printed form, and had a message written upon it.

"John Newton: Winchester, N. Y. (hold until called for).

"Stay where you are. Search grows warmer daily. Too bad for both you can't compromise.

"RUTGERS."

Phil read it all out slowly, and Lub listened very seriously.

"First," Phil went on to say, "the man's name, or the one he goes by right now, is John Newton. It may be assumed, and I 'reckon the chances are all that way. He seems to be in hiding, just as we thought. This is a friend who's warning him not to think of leaving his nest yet awhile. The question is, what terrible thing has he done, and who's hunting for him?"

"If you asked me," ventured Lub, composedly, "I'd say it was all as plain as print. This man must be a counterfeit money-maker. The Secret Service people are looking for him everywhere, because, like as not he's big game. And you can see how this Rutgers, who is of course a chap of the same kind, is telling him how hot the hunt is getting to be."

"It does look a little that way," admitted Phil; "there's only one thing that bothers me."

"Go on and explain what you mean," urged Ethan.

"The last part of the message doesn't seem to go with that sort of an explanation," said Phil.

"As how? Read it again, and let us see, Phil," Lub requested.

"'Too bad for both you can't compromise.' Now, the Government never allows itself to enter into any bargain where a rascal can get off. He may turn State's evidence against his pals, and in that way get lighter punishment; but there can be no such a thing as compromising a felony against the United States Government!"

"Phil, you're right about that, and I know it!" declared Lub, ponderously.

"I'll keep this telegram, if you've no objection," Phil continued; "and try to hit on some other sort of explanation later on. If we only had the key, this mystery would all be simple enough, I'm thinking."

"Well, what matters most to us is that we've got the canoe, and can find lots of uses for the same while we're up here at Lake Surprise," commented X-Ray.

It was decided a little later on, after the trout had been prepared, that as the fish looked so inviting, they might as well start right in by having a feast at noon.

"Well, anyway, it'll get us fixed for better things later on," sighed Lub, as he contemplated the three that would fall to his portion, and noted how small a mess that was going to be.

However, he did prove that he knew how to cook them splendidly. When handed around they were well browned, and as sweet as could be. Every one complimented Lub on his feat, and begged him to keep up the good work, which he readily agreed to do, never once appearing to realize that he was proving an "easy mark."

During the meal he was joked more or less about not having made a start with his screen on top of the chimney, and this must have spurred him on to showing his chums that he had conceived a clever scheme looking to that end.

First of all he managed to roll several logs against the lower part of the cabin. These upon being lifted in a pile formed a means for climbing up on to the roof. Without some such assistance Lub would have had no end of trouble in getting started on his self chosen job.

The others paid little or no attention to what he was doing, since they had various plans for passing the afternoon away. In fact, while Phil meant to take a wider detour of the neighborhood, to look for signs of game he could photograph, X-Ray had badgered Ethan into agreeing to accompany him out on the lake, to see which would catch the greater number of fish before evening came on.

They were now industriously searching for grubs, crickets, grasshoppers, or even angle worms, so as to tempt the fat trout to take hold.

It was while this was going on that a muffled cry came to their ears.

"Listen! wasn't that some one calling for help?" demanded Ethan, scrambling to his feet, with a can that had held Boston baked beans in his hand, into which he had been introducing crickets, and such things, it having only small holes punched in its sides, besides the larger one which he kept stopped with a handful of grass.

"There it goes again," said X-Ray, turning all around, as though so bewildered that he could not place the direction from which the call came.

"Look at Phil, will you, how he's putting for the cabin!" ejaculated Ethan.

"Do you think it can be a bear, or a panther, or anything like that; and is he meaning to shut himself in?" asked the other, his voice showing signs of trembling in spite of his well known bravery.

"Shucks! no, don't you see he's aiming to reach the back of the cabin, where Lub's heaped up that stuff? He's meaning to climb on the roof! It must be Lub's fallen part-way down the old chimney, and stuck there. Hurry and let's get along to help pull him out!"

With that they started on a mad run. As the shack was close at hand they managed to arrive at almost the same time Phil clambered on the roof.

For such nimble fellows the task of mounting to the roof was not a difficult one. When they reached there they found that Phil was leaning over, and seemed to be giving directions.

"Is it Lub; and has he fallen down inside?" asked X-Ray, quickly, hardly knowing whether to burst out into a laugh, or look sorrowful.

"Yes, and it happens that he's stuck there in such a way he can't go down any further, and isn't able to climb up. You hold on to me, both of you, while I lean in and see if I can get hold of his hands."

"Tell us when to yo-heave-o, will you, Phil?"

"Something'll have to come; only I hope we don't pull his arms off!" chuckled Ethan, beginning to see the humor of the situation, now that it looked as though Lub was not hurt in any way, only "discommoded," as he afterwards called it.

So while Phil leaned over, and thrust himself part-way down into the gaping aperture, his two comrades, seizing hold of his lower extremities, prepared to pull with might and main.

"Now, get busy!" they heard a half-muffled voice say, and at that X-Ray and Ethan began to tug.

There was heard considerable groaning and puffing, but they were not to be denied. Slowly but surely Phil's body was coming upward, until finally the head of Lub appeared above the top of the slab-and-hard-mud chimney.

"I know it's a tough joke on me, boys," he said, humbly enough, after he had clambered on to the roof, and rubbed some of his scraped joints with more or less feeling; "but after all it was an accident."

"How was that, Lub?" asked X-Ray, examining a number of stout stakes which apparently had been cut to certain lengths, and were intended to be fastened crossways in the chimney, being pounded into position with the hatchet.

"Why, I had one of those prison bars in position, and unfortunately leaned too hard on the same," Lub explained.

"The pesky thing betrayed your confidence, did it?" demanded Ethan.

"Just about how it happened," the other continued, frankly. "I must have tried to save myself, more through intuition than because I had time to think about it. Anyway I got doubled up somehow; and that's the reason I stuck in the flue. One thing I'm glad of, and that is you fellows were close by, and could hear me yelp. If you'd gone off I might have had to stay there all afternoon; and let me tell you it would have been no joke."

"Ready to give it up as a bad job, are you, Lub?" questioned X-Ray.

"What, me quit for a little thing like that?" burst out the other; "I should hope I was a better stayer than that, boys. It only makes me clinch my teeth, and resolve to conquer or die."

"Well, please don't die in our chimney flue," begged Ethan; "because you know we need it to keep our fire going, so we can cook three meals a day. I think you must have pounded that first bar down a little too far, that's all, Lub. Better luck next time!"

They left him industriously at work. Having found to his sorrow where his mistake was, Lub would be more careful in the near future. And when he finished his task no 'coon or squirrel would find it possible to have access to the cabin by means of the chimney, unless they first gnawed through the parallel bars.

Shortly afterwards, having succeeded in procuring a good supply of bait, the two ambitious fishermen pushed off in the bark canoe. Ethan held the paddle, for he was a master-hand at this sort of work, and could propel such a light running boat with the deftness of an Adirondack guide, hardly a ripple being stirred, with the paddle never once taken from the water.

Then Phil wandered off, after giving Lub directions for summoning them back should any necessity arise, which of course they had no reason to believe would be the case.

Engrossed in his work of hunting high and low for signs of his quarry Phil passed an hour or more. Then he returned to camp, and found Lub resting after his labors, having completed his task. From his manner it was easy to see that he felt quite well satisfied with what he had done.

Later on they heard loud calls, and saw the other boys coming in. X-Ray was wielding the spruce blade now; and in the bow Ethan held up two long strings of glistening and still squirming trout, as trophies to their united prowess with hook, rod and line.

"It's beginning to get pretty warm work between us," said X-Ray, as they stepped ashore. "I got nineteen this afternoon while Ethan he reached twenty-six; so even with my twelve before that I'm only five ahead in the count. All trout, so variety isn't in the game yet. He hooked a sockdolager, but his line broke. Yet I'm willing to admit he's got one there that goes ahead of any I've taken. Get the scales and we'll measure up, Ethan."

Lub rubbed his hands together when he learned how much in earnest the rivals were becoming.

"I reckon now, Phil," he said aside to the other, "we're just going to feast on these here trout all the time we're stopping at your hotel. Encourage 'em to keep the game going. First we'll make out to think Ethan is bound to win; and then we can switch off on to X-Ray."

"You're getting to be a regular schemer, Lub," commented Phil, though he took occasion later on to follow out the advice given, and thus increase the seeds of rivalry between the fishermen.

They had a glorious mess of trout for supper, and even Lub owned up that it was utterly impossible for him to stow away another one, so that several had to be wasted. None of them had yet shown any signs of becoming tired of the deliciously browned trout, and Lub even declared that if they would get him up betimes in the morning he would fry another batch.

"The night favors my plan, because you see how it's clouded up," Phil was saying, as he prepared to go and set his trap.

"That is, you mean you need darkness, because your camera has to be set ready to take the picture," Lub remarked.

"Well," said Phil, "that's the way photographers do when taking an interior, but I've got an arrangement attached to my camera that works different. When the animal pulls the string that is connected with the flash light apparatus he does something more. He exposes the plate for just a quarter of a minute."

"A time exposure, you mean," remarked Ethan. "If you've no objections, Phil, I think I'd like to go along, and see how you set the thing."

Phil looked pleased.

"Only too glad to have you, Ethan," he told the other.

Ethan had been the one who only lately had scorned the idea that any hunter could find so much delight in "shooting" game with a camera as in other days he had done with a gun.

Phil began to feel encouraged. He knew only too well, from his own personal experience, that once the seed had taken root it was bound to sprout and grow rapidly.

Ethan's genuine love of all out-doors, together with a nature that could not be called cruel, would make it fallow ground that the seed had fallen upon. Results were sure to follow.

So Phil led the way to the place where he had discovered that one or more of a colony of 'coons had actually made a trail leading to the lake, going and coming so many times.

He had half jokingly declared that they went down when fish hungry to look for an unwary trout. Whether this could really be so or not Phil of course was in no position to prove.

"But they do eat fish," Ethan remarked, as they walked along together; "I've seen a big buck 'coon snatch one out of the water. Some people say they bob the end of their striped tail on the surface as they sit on a log, and in that way lure a fish close in. As I never saw such a thing you'll have to take the story with a grain of salt."

He was really very much interested in the way Phil set his trap, and asked a lot of questions, all of which the other obligingly answered.

And after everything had been arranged the two chums who had such a mutual love for the Great Outdoors walked back to the Birch Bark Lodge in company.



CHAPTER IX

THE 'COON PHOTOGRAPHER

"Lightning! Why, we're going to have a storm!" exclaimed X-Ray Tyson.

They were all beginning to feel somewhat tired, and Lub must have had as many as six or seven little "cat-naps." The fire was burning cheerily and the interior of the cabin pretty close, despite the fact that the door had been left wide open.

"Well, let her rain," muttered Lub. "We haven't anything to get wet, outside of our canoe, and it won't hurt that."

Phil had arisen to his feet. There was a peculiar smile on his face, Ethan saw. He looked satisfied about something.

"I hope you fellows can spare me the lantern for a little while," he said.

"Well, that's queer!" observed Lub, in bewilderment.

"What's doing, Phil?" demanded X-Ray Tyson.

"I think I'll go out and get my camera," the other returned.

Then Ethan chuckled.

"I thought that was what it must have been, Phil," he observed, dryly.

"Oh! I see," Lub went on to say; "afraid of the rain, of course. Well, I suppose it would ruin the thing to get it wet."

"Too bad you've had all that work for nothing, Phil," yawning as he said this X-Ray tried to look sympathetic; but was really too sleepy to be anything but ridiculous.

"Oh! I don't know about that," Phil told him, as he picked up the lantern; "I've got a hunch that the thing's been played to the end of the string."

Ethan chuckled some more. Both Lub and X-Ray opened their eyes and began to realize that there was something more to this thing than they had grasped.

"Whatever can you mean by that?" asked Lub; while the fourth boy, quicker to catch things, cried out:

"Oh! then that wasn't a flash of lightning after all, Phil?"

"After a kind, it was," Phil went on to say. "In fact, I believe my trap has been sprung. Mr. 'Coon was early on the trail to-night. I'd better go and see. If the thing's happened, no need of leaving the camera out all night, and take chances of a shower. Coming along with me, Ethan?"

"Sure thing!" declared the other, who had only been waiting for an invitation, as Phil very well knew from the eager look in his eyes.

They soon arrived on the spot.

"It's all right," observed Phil, immediately.

"Trap's sprung, you mean?" asked his comrade.

"Yes, you can see where the bait has been carried away from the place where I fixed it," he was told, as Phil pointed out where the cord ran.

"I guess the flash gave the poor old 'coon the scare of his life," Ethan went on to say, considerably amused.

It was an object with Phil to encourage this interest on the part of his chum. Accordingly, after gathering up the camera and flashlight apparatus he had Ethan closely examine the marks that were plainly seen about the place where the bait had attracted the attention of the little animal.

As has been said before, Ethan was a practical woodsman, and knew a great deal about all things connected with outdoor life. Trailing had long been one of his particular hobbies; hence, he was able to tell just what must have happened there.

"Here's where the 'coon came along, just as he'd likely done on many another night when he felt fish hungry. And about here, Phil, he began to get a whiff of that green corn you fetched with you to use as bait."

"How do you make that out?" asked the other, partly for information, and also with the idea of keeping up Ethan's interest, which he could easily see was growing right along.

"Why, the marks have a different look," Ethan explained. "He stopped right here to sniff, and then went forward on the run, all caution thrown to the winds."

"That took him up to the bait?" suggested Phil.

"Yes, and you bet he didn't waste a single second laying hold of the same," Ethan ventured, positively, just as though he might be watching the entire performance with his own eyes, instead of figuring it out.

"Like as not it's been a long time since this particular 'coon had a chance at an ear of juicy green corn," observed Phil. "Perhaps he never even saw one before, but his instinct told him what a good thing was when he ran across it."

"As he began to pull at the cob, meaning to carry it off to his den, there came that dazzling white flash," Ethan continued.

"It petrified the 'coon for the instant," explained Phil, "that happens in nearly every case. If you look close you'll find that the animal always has a startled expression. I rather think any of us would if a flash like that blinded us just when we'd started to pick up the biggest watermelon in the patch."

"It frightened Mr. 'Coon away, of course," said Ethan.

"But he may sneak back here again before morning," laughed Phil. "You can see where his teeth cut into the green corn, and the memory of that one taste will make him ready to take chances again."

He dropped the half ear of corn on the ground as he spoke.

"You mean that the poor old chap isn't going to be cheated out of his fine treat, eh, Phil?"

"He deserves something," was the reply, "because I reckon he's given me a cracking good picture. I want him to know I appreciate his pull at my latch string."

This closed the incident, but on the way back Ethan continued to ask numerous questions. These the other always answered to the best of his ability, for it was his desire to interest Ethan more and more.

And Phil felt satisfied when, just before they arrived at the cabin Ethan gave expression to an admission:

"Well, I'm ready to own up, Phil, that if for any reason I couldn't have a gun, or use one because the law was on all game, I might take some stock in hunting by flashlight, and with a camera."

"And the knowledge you have, Ethan, of wild animals' ways would make you a master hand at the game, if ever you bothered taking it up."

"Think so?" remarked the other, naturally pleased at this sort of appreciation on Phil's part.

"I'm sure of it," he was told.

Nothing more was said at the time. Phil felt positive, however, that he could count on Ethan's cooeperation so long as they remained at Birch Bark Lodge.

It was not long before they all sought their bunks.

The night passed without any alarm. Lub had assured his comrades they need have no fear of any unwelcome guest dropping down the chimney again. He had insured against such an event happening; and apparently felt the utmost confidence in his own invention, for he seemed to drop asleep almost as soon as he settled down in his blanket.

Again in the morning they enjoyed their plunge in the lake, although Lub had to be strongly urged before he consented to join them.

When he mentioned trout he was gently but firmly told that it was folly to whip a willing horse.

"Don't let's have fish every meal," urged X-Ray Tyson, "or we'll all be sprouting gills and dorsal fins and scales. Once a day after this ought to satisfy the trout hunger. Now it seems to me that's a bully good fire for camp flapjacks."

"Just what it is," agreed Ethan with enthusiasm.

"That suits me all right," Phil agreed, "and we all know the kind you can make, Lub. If you want any help, call on me."

"Oh! it's only a pleasure to me, so long as I know my efforts are appreciated," said Lub, just as they all knew he would.

The flapjacks must have been good, for not a piece of one was left after the four boys had finished breakfast. And they even had the audacity to bait Lub on top of it.

"Don't care how soon you repeat that mess, Lub," observed Phil.

"Never tasted their equal," confessed Ethan.

"And as for me," said the wicked X-Ray, "I'll sure dream of the treat to-night, see if I don't."

Whereupon, of course, Lub set about figuring out just how the little sack of self-raising flour would hold out, if he made flapjacks every single morning of their stay in camp.

Lub was a lovable camp mate, and so easily imposed upon. But then his chums were just as ready to do things for him in turn.

Later on in the morning, seeing that the rival fishermen had started out again to depopulate the lake, and Lub was busy cleaning up around the cabin, Phil took a notion to wander off.

He meant to cover quite some little territory this time, his object being to see if he could catch a glimpse of a deer. Of course he carried his camera along, because it was always possible that some good chance might arise where he could use it to advantage.

Phil believed in being ready. He was a hunter, and knew how exasperating it was to run across tempting game when one's gun had been left at home.

Half an hour later he found himself wandering through a section of woods that looked very promising. He fancied he caught a sound, and it was of such a peculiar nature that Phil stopped still to listen.

Yes, it was not the "whiff" of a startled deer or moose, but struck the astonished boy more like the wailing cry of a distressed child.



CHAPTER X

FINDING A SUNBEAM

At first Phil found it hard to believe he heard aright.

"I've known cats to make sounds like a baby crying, when they were facing each other, and ready to scrap," he told himself.

The more he listened the stronger grew his conviction.

"Even if it turns out to be a pair of spitting young bobcats," he concluded, "I'd like to snap 'em off. As to a child, what would one be doing away up here in this wilderness, unless—by George, now, that might be it."

He had suddenly remembered how they found the little cap, yes, and a baby silver thimble in the cabin.

It was no trouble at all to locate the source of the sounds. The sobs continued as he advanced. In a few minutes Phil was gazing with considerable surprise upon a figure outstretched on the ground.

He could see it was a little girl, possibly four years old. She had golden curls, and when she looked up suddenly at hearing his footsteps Phil discovered that she was as pretty as a fairy.

Just then she looked a little forlorn, since her face was soiled from the dirt, and tears had made furrows down her cheeks.

She scrambled to her feet, and seemed hardly to know whether to try and run away, or put her childish trust in this strange boy.

Now Phil was always a favorite with younger children. They all loved him because he had such a pleasant face, engaging laugh, and seemed to know just how to appeal to a child's heart.

Few boys care to bother with little tots; they only appear as a nuisance in their eyes. Phil, however, was different.

"Hello! here, little girl, what's all the trouble about?" he asked, cheerily; and somehow there must have been magic in his voice, for the look of fear left the child's face immediately.

She recognized a friend in need. As a rule children, just the same as most dogs do, have an instinct that tells them who to trust.

"I'se losted!" she said, simply, with a little sob in her voice.

Phil had now reached her side. She did not shrink from him as he bent down and put his hand gently on her curly head. Something that she saw in his kind eyes, perhaps the vein of sympathy so pronounced in his tones, told her this strange boy could be safely trusted.

"Now, that's too bad," Phil went on to say, just as if he himself had been "losted" and hence knew how it felt. "But who are you lost from?"

"Daddy," she said, simply, as though taking it for granted that every one must know who was implied by that term; because to her mind there was only one "daddy" on earth.

Phil believed he saw it all now. The man who had occupied the cabin, had this child with him. For some unknown reason he had taken alarm, perhaps because of their coming to the lonely lake, and made a hurried change of base.

Why he had prowled around on that first night it was of course impossible for the boy to say, unless he simply meant to satisfy himself with regard to their intentions.

And now the little girl had managed to lose herself in the woods. No doubt the father would be searching everywhere for her.

Phil thought it all over, even while he was soothing the child and telling her he would see to it that she found "daddy" again.

He could not leave her there in the open pine woods, that was sure, and since there could be no immediate way of learning the present abode of the mysterious man, the only thing left for Phil to do was to take the little girl to camp with him.

In due time no doubt the father was sure to turn up there to claim the child. They would try to convince him that it was none of their business what made him hide away from his fellows as he was doing.

So Phil made up his mind.

He had by this time managed to distract the child's thoughts from her troubles. Indeed, this was no difficult task for Phil Bradley. Already she had laughed at something he had said. When Phil heard what a sweet laugh that was he immediately told himself:

"I warrant that there's a man chasing wild through the woods right now, trying to find this little sunbeam. I know I'd be, if I missed a merry laugh like that at my fireside."

"My name is Phil," he told her, "and won't you tell me yours?"

"Why, it's Mazie," she quickly answered.

"Mazie what?" he continued.

"No, just only Mazie," the little girl told him positively.

Phil was baffled, for he had hoped to learn "daddy's" name. He did not attempt anything further along that line.

"Now, Mazie," he went on to say, "you'll come with me, won't you? You must be hungry, and want some lunch. We'll find daddy pretty soon, you know, and you wouldn't want to stay out here in the woods all by yourself?"

She looked alarmed at the mere suggestion of such a thing. It pleased the boy to notice how eagerly she seized his outstretched hand, to which she clung confidingly.

"Oh! no, 'cause I'm afraid. I saw a bear, a big bear once. Daddy shooed it away from our house. And oh! it whiffed and whiffed just awful. Please take me with you—Phil."

"Just what I'll do, Mazie. You see I have three friends, all boys who will be glad to see you. And when daddy comes he can take you back home."

"Home!"

The child repeated the word after him. There was a bewildered look on her face. Phil judged from this that some memory was awakening.

"Home—daddy—muzzer!" he heard her say almost in a whisper.

"Oh! you didn't tell me that your mother was up here, too; is she with daddy, Mazie?" Phil asked her, as they walked slowly along.

She looked up. The wistful glow in her eyes gave the boy a strange feeling.

"Oh! no. Muzzer gone far away. She never come to her little girl now," he heard her say; and somehow the thought that she meant her mother was dead kept Phil from questioning her any further.

The little thing had evidently already recovered from her recent grief. She trusted in Phil, and believed that it would only be a matter of a short time before he would bring "daddy."

In her eyes Phil was a magician. Nothing could be beyond his power to accomplish. That is what the faith of a child means.

She prattled all the way along, and yet it was pretty much about the woods, the flowers she liked to pick, the noisy scolding squirrels, and how daddy had always watched over her so carefully since they came up here, ever and ever so long ago.

Not once did she refer to any former life. It seemed to be in the nature of a closed book with the child.

Phil was waiting to see how she acted when they came in sight of the cabin, for he felt sure she must recognize it. She pointed to several things, even telling him that the tree with the dead top was where "bushy-tail" lived and had a family, so daddy said, and daddy knew everything.

All at once the child gave a cry. She had discovered the cabin.

"Oh! I live here!" she burst out, and disengaging her hand from that of her champion she flew to the open door and burst in, shrilly crying:

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Imagine the astonishment of Lub. He happened to be sitting tailor fashion on the floor sewing a button on that he had burst off, Ethan told him when he gorged so much the evening before.

Hearing a flutter, and then that cry in a childish voice, Lub turned to see what he thought at first must be a specter.

The little girl was abashed to find only a stranger there. Her sudden hopes being so suddenly dissolved brought the tears again into her eyes.

But Phil quickly managed to brighten her up. And Lub was ready to do almost anything to please the little miss, even to trying to stand on his head had she demanded it.

Then along came the other fellows. Of course both of them were as much astonished as Lub had been, but at the same time showed that they were not sorry to have such a little sunbeam around.

Among themselves, of course, they talked it all over, and knew that Mazie must be the child who had been the sole companion of the lonely occupant of the cabin.

"Too bad if it turns out he's a scoundrel, and a law breaker, with such a bully little girl belonging to him."

X-Ray Tyson said this, looking as he spoke at the suspiciously new coin he had picked out of a crack in the floor, and which he fully believed had been molded right there in that isolated cabin.

"Don't count too much on that," remarked Phil; "you can tell that she loves daddy above everything on earth. He can't be so very wicked, I guess."

As the day wore on all of them took turns in amusing the little girl. She proudly showed them a number of things that she had been in the habit of playing with when she "lived here."

Not once did she speak of a former life. Everything seemed to be associated with "daddy." And as the other boys had been told by Phil what he thought in connection with her mother being dead, of course they were careful not to mention the word, for fear it might cause her sudden grief.

During the afternoon her merry laugh was heard frequently. Childish troubles soon fade away. And surely a little girl could not wish for a better lot of "big brothers" than these four boys seemed to be. They anticipated her every wish, and after a while Mazie even seemed to look upon them in the light of old and tried friends.

Phil had arranged it that while their little guest honored them with her company she was to have his bunk. He could make himself fairly comfortable on the floor, somehow. A bunch of hemlock browse would do for a mattress, and if the fire was kept up a blanket was hardly necessary.

Phil felt a little fearful that at night she might miss a familiar figure, and cry herself to sleep wanting "daddy." He was agreeably disappointed, however. Mazie ate supper with her protectors, and cuddled down in the arms of Lub, to whom she had taken a great fancy. Perhaps it was because he had so much to do with the getting of meals, although it was hardly a fair thing to say that, because Lub was kindness itself.

There she was finally discovered fast asleep. Lub insisted on them leaving her with her head on his shoulder for a long time.

Finally, Ethan and Phil having come back, after setting the flashlight arrangement in a new place, they managed to carry the sleeping child to the bunk provided, without arousing her.

The night passed quietly.

Phil would not have been surprised had a heavy summons on the door brought them all to their feet, and upon opening up to find an almost distracted man anxiously inquiring as to whether they had seen anything of a lost child.

Nothing of the kind occurred.

Wherever "daddy" could be searching for the missing one as yet he failed to turn his attention to the cabin where until recently he had lived in retirement, a hermit, as X-Ray Tyson called him.

Another dawn came.

Breakfast was prepared in almost abject silence. The little girl was still sleeping. All of the boys had tiptoed up and taken a peep at her lying there, as though hardly able to believe it could be so.

Phil had washed her face and hands the first thing, and with her rosy cheeks and lips, with the masses of golden, natural curls she certainly looked, as Lub expressed it, "pretty enough to eat."

So breakfast was prepared almost in silence. When any of them found occasion to speak it was laughable to see how they got their heads together and whispered.

Just before Lub had breakfast ready to serve, Mazie called out to Phil, and was soon ready to sit down at the table with two of her newfound friends, there not being room for all.

X-Ray, thinking to pick up some information, called the child's attention to the scorched places on the heavy board, apparently done with molten metal.

"See what daddy did!" he went on to say; and immediately the others, guessing his game, waited to see the result.

The little girl looked from X-Ray down to the scarred surface of the table. She shook her head vigorously in the negative, and looked indignant.

"Daddy didn't!" she exclaimed, with a vigor that settled that question.

"These marks were here when you came, were they, Mazie?" asked Phil.

This time she nodded her little curly head in the affirmative.

No more was said. X-Ray took out his new fifty cent piece and looked hard at it—but if he half intended asking the child whether she had ever seen any like it he changed his mind. Perhaps he did not fancy looking into those clear blue eyes, and coaxing the child to unconsciously betray her "daddy."

After breakfast the boys started to do various things. Ethan and X-Ray Tyson were more than ever bent upon fishing. They counted exactly even now, and the excitement was running high.

"But after this," said Ethan, who had the soul of a true sportsman, "we mean to put back all the ordinary trout that are uninjured. We're no fish hogs, you must know. We'll carry the little scales, and the foot rule along, so as to measure what we take."

"That's a sensible arrangement," Phil told them; "but then it's only what I would have expected of you, Ethan."

They were still gathering bait close by the cabin when there broke out a terrible din.

"It must be Lub!" exclaimed Ethan.

"Yes, I saw him wandering off in that direction a bit ago," added X-Ray.

"What can have happened to him?" exclaimed Phil, his mind running to panthers, ferocious bobcats, hungry bears, and even an excited father, wild with searching for his lost child.

"There he comes now!" cried Ethan.

"How funny he acts," X-Ray went on to say.

Indeed, Lub was carrying on as though he had gone suddenly crazy, leaping up into the air, threshing with his arms, and prancing madly to and fro. All the while they could hear him letting out hoarse yells.



CHAPTER XI

AN ENCOUNTER IN THE PINE WOODS

"Help! Chase 'em off, somebody! Help a fellow, won't you? Ouch! they're murdering me by inches. Oh! my stars, what can I do?"

"It's hornets!" shrieked X-Ray, always as quick as a flash.

"Mebbe a swarm of yellow jackets!" suggested Ethan. "I can see something whirling around over his head. Gee! what if he runs here and gives us a dose? The cabin for mine."

"Hold on," called out Phil, taking in the situation, and then raising his voice he shouted to the terrified Lub: "Throw off your hat as you run. There, that'll attract some. Now your coat. Never mind a sting or two, but do as I say."

Lub, accustomed in matters of this kind to letting some one else do his thinking for him, hastened to obey.

Immediately afterward he was heard calling piteously:

"There's some after me yet, Phil, and oh! how they do hit you! I'm beginning to swell up right now. How'll I get away from the swarm, Phil? You tell me what to do, and quick!"

"Run for the lake and jump in!" called out Phil. "Duck under, and keep there as long as you can stand it."

Without thinking twice, and only too willing to blindly obey, Lub galloped straight to the shore of the lake. He happened to strike a little bank, where the water was quite deep.

"Here I go!" they heard him shout, and then came a tremendous splash.

"Oh! my!" gasped X-Ray, "that settles our fishing for this morning! He'll scare every trout in the lake with his threshing around!"

Ethan was bubbling over with laughter, and even Phil had hard work to keep from giving a shout when upon reaching the shore they saw what was going on.

Lub stood in water up to his chin. He kept bobbing his head in an anxious effort to locate any determined insect that still hovered near by. Occasionally he would duck entirely out of sight, and move along a dozen feet, as though in hopes of eluding the enemy in this way.

Taking pity on the poor fellow Phil assured him the coast was clear, and that he was safe in coming out.

Such a woe begone figure he presented.

It seemed like a shame to laugh, but the boys could not have helped it had their lives depended on keeping sober faces.

Besides looking like a drowned rat, poor Lub found that his face was already swelling up. His jaws looked as they may have done when he had the mumps. One eye threatened to be lost altogether, on account of the puffiness all around it. His nose had received due attention, and even his hands had failed to come through the scorching fire unscathed.

Despite all this Lub tried to grin, although the effort was, as X-Ray said pretty much of a "ghastly failure."

"I know I'm a sight to behold, fellows," whimpered Lub. "I guess I deserve all I got, too, for being such a fool. But how was I to know that old hornets' nest almost lying on the ground under the bush was loaded!"

"What did you take it for?" asked Phil.

"Why," replied Lub, "I supposed it was a regular giant puff-ball, one of the toad-stool kind that go off with a crack and a puff of smoke when you kick 'em."

"Then you actually kicked it?" cried Phil.

"Just what I did—oh! murder!" gasped Lub, feeling of his enlarged head in dismay.

"And it went off, all right, I bet you?" asserted Ethan, uproariously.

"A million of 'em came hustling out and started to eating me up," Lub went on to explain, plaintively. "I killed 'em in droves, but there was always a fresh lot. Then I ran—you saw how I had to carry on. Guess it wasn't any laughing matter to me! And it isn't right now. If I keep on swelling like I am I'll bust. Talk to me about having the big head—bein' President of the United States wouldn't make my cranium swell any more. Phil, ain't you going to do something for a chum that's had trouble?"

"Sure, I am," announced Phil, readily. "Ethan, find some mud, and let it be clay if you can. Hurry and get it here. While you're doing it I'll take the sting out with ammonia. It's lucky I thought to fetch some along."

Lub only too willingly put himself wholly in the hands of his friends. The ammonia smarted at first, but by degrees the pain began to disappear, as the poison was neutralized by the remedy.

"I have to be careful not to let a drop of it get in your eyes, because it would smart terribly," Phil told the patient.

"Yes, I know even now how a dog feels when you squirt some of this stuff in his eyes with those little ammonia pistols," Lub remarked.

The process was continued until Ethan arrived with the clay.

This was fastened on the best way possible by the use of Lub's big red bandanna handkerchief.

Phil had insisted on taking a snap shot of the victim of the hornets before he had his face bound up. He also got another view after this operation had been completed.

"I'm doing this partly for your own good, Lub," he explained. "Perhaps it'll make you feel bad to see how pride always swells before a fall. But then it's going to be a valuable lesson to you."

"And you'll never kick again before you're dead certain what kind of a puff-ball it is, because some happen to be inhabited," X-Ray told him.

As Lub would very likely not be fit for anything during the rest of that day, Phil took charge, while the rival fishermen were out in the canoe.

All the while he enjoyed having the little girl around. She seemed like a real ray of sunshine.

"Whatever will we do without her, Phil, if her father blows in here any time and carries her off?"

Lub said this in a muffled tone, for he was tied up good and fast, but he meant every word of it.

"Perhaps we might get him to let her stay with us," said Phil, showing that he, too, had been thinking along those lines; "if one of you fellows agreed to give up your bunk to 'daddy' and sleep on the floor with me."

"I'd do that, and more, for the sake of keeping her here," declared Lub.

The fishermen reported at noon.

X-Ray seemed in high spirits, and Ethan correspondingly depressed. It was easy to see which way luck had gone that morning.

"Well, there's another day coming," said Phil, hopefully.

"Yes, and I mean to start in and show him a few wrinkles from now on," Ethan declared; at which the other laughed scoffingly as he remarked:

"Oh! so you've just been playing off all this time, have you? Seemed to me you put in your best licks right along. I'll have to think up a few dodges myself, if that's the game."

"Everything square and above board, boys," warned Phil.

"As fair as can be, Phil. Neither of us would want to play a mean trick," said Ethan, and his rival echoed his words.

After lunch Phil told them it was their turn to look after the camp while he took a stroll.

"Be careful about letting Mazie stray off," was what he told them the last thing, ere starting away, camera in hand.

He had managed to develop his two flashlight pictures, and so far as he could tell from the films they appeared to be clean-cut good ones. Ethan after inspecting the negatives had expressed the opinion that they looked "fine."

From various indications Phil began to believe he had the other interested in the work, and that it would not be long before Ethan might be counted as one of those who call it fascinating.

Phil was thinking of all this as he walked along. Numerous other things came into his mind also. He even wondered whether some accident might not cause him to come upon Mazie's father, and what "daddy" would prove to be.

Somehow the boy had come to believe the man could not be bad, or he would never have held the affection of that dear little heart; and he knew from many signs that Mazie certainly fairly worshiped her father.

Altogether the trip up to Lake Surprise was turning out delightfully all around.

There might be a few things associated with it that would not always be a happy memory with some of his chums. For instance, there was the episode of the hornets' nest which poor Lub had kicked on the impulse of the moment, thinking it only a harmless "puff-ball." He would shiver every time some buzzing sound reminded him of his wild flight; but even then Lub had learned a lesson he could never forget.

Phil kept his camera ready for instantaneous use. He knew that if by any great good luck he "jumped" a deer that had been lying down, and sleeping in the heat of the day, it would require considerable presence of mind and a quick action in order to snapshot the animal at close quarters.

Being somewhat of an experienced hunter, Phil had been careful when starting out to head into the wind. This was done so that a deer would not discover his presence through any sense of smell, until he was close up.

Once given a fair chance, and he believed he was capable of handling the situation.

As luck would have it his course took him through the very same neck of the woods where on the previous day he had found Mazie, only now he had gone half a mile and more beyond that spot.

All at once as Phil carefully pushed through a screen of bushes he heard a scrambling sound. Some animal jumped to its feet, and Phil, as he took note of the dun color, the immense size, the mule-like ears, the square muzzle and the two-thirds grown horns knew that he was face to face with the king of the Adirondack woods—a bull moose!



CHAPTER XII

WHEN TWO PLAYED THE GAME

The moose looked at Phil, and Phil stared at the moose. Both of them seemed to be equally surprised at the unexpected meeting.

Apparently Phil was the first to recover, for the sharp little "click" of his camera shutter acting, after he had quickly drawn a head on the bulky animal, told that he was true to his instinct as a Nature photographer.

It may be that even that little snapping sound angered the moose; or possibly he was just in a mood for trouble. The rutting season was well over by this time of year, and his horns had grown fairly stout, so that they could be trusted to do good service in battle.

Phil never knew. In fact he had no opportunity to make inquiries, or conduct any sort of an investigation. All he became aware of suddenly was that the bull moose had lowered his head, and started toward him at a full gallop.

Now Phil may at times have been called a bold sort of a boy, but he also had a pretty well defined streak of caution in his make-up. Those towering horns had an ugly look to him. He could easily imagine how inconvenient it would seem to feel them brought into personal contact with some part of his body, with all that muscular power of the big animal butting them on.

There was only one thing left for Phil to do, and that was to make himself scarce around that neighborhood as quickly as possible.

Although the boy had never in all his life witnessed such a thing as a genuine bull fight, he understood that the first thing to be done was to dodge. The moose was so close to him that he knew he had very little chance of outstripping those long legs in fair flight.

With this partly formed plan in his head Phil ducked to the left, and started to run. He could have no real motive in choosing this side, because there was no time to take even a quick observation, and form a plan of action.

As it turned out luck favored him in making this hasty choice on the spur of the moment. Had he turned to the right he would have been compelled to cover such an extensive strip of open ground that his fleet-footed enemy must have easily overtaken him. That would have forced Phil to make another side movement, or else be caught up in those branching horns.

He knew what this latter must mean, and that once he found himself knocked down and rendered helpless, he would be rolled along, prodded wickedly, and even jumped upon in the endeavor to disable him.

On the left, though, there were trees close to him that offered some sort of refuge. Phil, hearing the moose putting after him at full speed, hastened to swing his body around the first of the trunks he came to. It would offer a barrier against the attacks of the animal until he could get his wits about him, and figure out some plan.

A minute later and the moose was chasing him around the tree in a merry way. All the games Phil had ever played with his schoolmates in days gone by were not a circumstance to the one he found himself engaged in with that determined animal. The more he was disappointed at reaching his supposed enemy the greater became the fury of the moose. He stamped, and whistled, and butted his head against the tree; after which he would start on another fast trot around it, the performance consisting of perhaps a dozen or a score of circles.

Phil had the inner ring, and could of course move much faster around than the enemy. Still, it was not long before he became heartily tired of that continual and useless work. It began to make him dizzy, too. He found himself wondering whether the moose meant to keep going in these spirals until he had exhausted the boy; and how long it was possible to keep this sort of thing up before he fell over.

It was in vain that he shouted in the face of the animal; the sound of a human voice did not seem to have any effect, unless it was to make the beast show fresh animation, as though spurred on to renewed vigor.

"However am I to get the better of the old fool?" Phil asked himself between his puffs; for this happened after he had been chased another dozen times around the well-worn path.

There was a breathing spell, as the moose halted for a brief time. Phil did not cherish any hope or expectation that the beast meant to retire, and leave him to himself. In fact he began to believe the big animal was having the time of his life, and enjoying it immensely.

"Which is more than I can say I'm doing," Phil grumbled; "this ring-around-the-rosy business is played out, and I've just got to find some way to stop it."

Taking advantage of the breathing spell he cast a hurried look back of him. Of course he did not dream that such a thing as help could come; on the contrary his only expectation was that he might find some way by means of which he could extricate himself from his dilemma.

"Bully! if I can only make that clump of small trees I ought to manage it!" was what Phil exclaimed.

There was no time for more just then. Mr. Bull Moose was ready for another frolic, having freshened up. So again they chased madly around that tree, the hoofs of the animal tearing up the ground until it looked as though he had made a regular race-track there.

When finally the new inning came to a close Phil was fairly panting for breath, and more dizzy than ever.

"A few more turns like that would do me up!" he gasped; and then gritted his teeth with a determination to make the break he had figured on.

Fortunately the moose always seemed to come to a stand at about the same spot. This brought the little clump of trees exactly behind Phil, which fact would give him a chance to get fairly started before the moose became aware of his intention.

Taking in a long breath the boy suddenly darted away.

He instantly heard the moose rushing after him. The distance was short, and so Phil managed to swing around his new shelter, with those ugly horns not more than five feet behind him.

Well, that was all the margin he needed for safety. The new barrier would cause him to cover much more ground with every revolution; but then it was not his purpose to keep this up any longer than was absolutely necessary.

A great wave of relief swept over the boy when he managed to slip in between two of the small trees, and found that he was well protected on all sides from the enraged animal's horns.

In vain did the moose attempt to insert his head between the trees. Phil kicked at him, and continued his shouts. By now he was beginning to feel that the advantage was swinging over to his side. He had done nothing to incur this hostility on the part of the animal, and was surely entitled to the privilege of defending himself as best he could, even to the extent of inflicting injury on his four-footed enemy.

Perhaps at some time in the past a monster tree had been cut down on this spot, and these second-growth saplings had sprung up in a circle that was wide enough to afford a nimble boy shelter. The towering horns of the moose, more than anything else, rendered it difficult for him to reach Phil.

This second stage of the affair was a decided improvement on the first, Phil assured himself. At the same time he was not satisfied. He failed to see the fun of being kept a prisoner, cooped up in that limited space for perhaps hours. It was no fault of his that the moose chanced to be in an ugly humor; and just then, if Phil Bradley had had any sort of firearm along he would have felt justified in dispatching that furious animal. Game laws are good things, but even they must be broken when one's life is placed in jeopardy.

Besides his pocket knife Phil had nothing on his person that could be called a weapon. For once he had even left his hunting knife at the cabin, and bitterly he repented of his unusual thoughtlessness. It would never happen again he told himself, when he realized how helpless he was.

When the moose again started trying to get at him Phil conceived a new hope. It was in the shape of an inspiration, and he watched eagerly in the expectation that such a thing might come to pass.

What if the moose did find a way to crowd his head between two of the trees, by slanting it sideways; what if in his stupidity he was unable to extricate it again, and could only tug frantically backwards becoming excited and helpless?

That would be turning the tables in great shape. Phil had seen cows confined in stall yokes somewhat after that fashion. He also knew how green turtles are captured in large mesh nets down along the Florida coast streams like Indian River; for the stupid creature, having passed its flippers through the net, and being unable to continue the forward movement on account of the bulging shell, simply keeps trying to urge itself on, and never dreaming that it could back out by reversing its flippers.

There was one particular place where Phil thought the chances seemed fairly good that the horns of the moose might pass through, provided he turned his head the proper way.

In order to try out his scheme he did all in his power to coax the animal to begin operations in that section. For a while it seemed as though the moose persistently avoided the larger opening. Everywhere else he struggled the best he knew how to reach the prisoner of the saplings, even pawing viciously at him with his hoofs.

"I must make a big bluff of meaning to slip out through that hole," Phil told himself; "and when he gets around there perhaps he'll fall into the trap."

This he immediately started to carry out. It worked like a charm, too, for he had barely time to dodge back into his asylum when his captor came up against the tree next the wider opening with a bang.

After that Phil easily led him into making a fresh effort to insert his horned head through that opening. Eagerly the boy watched every move on the part of the determined animal. Twice it looked as though success was about to crown the effort of the moose.

"Keep going!" Phil told him, encouragingly, as he tapped the animal's nose with the toe of his shoe, just to keep his temper up, so he might not get weary of his task; "one good turn deserves another. The third time takes the cake. Just manage to get your old horns through first, and then you can push that big head after, as easy as pie. That's the way. Whoop! he's really done it!"

Of course the moose could not understand the explicit directions which Phil was only too willingly handing him; but by some chance he did manage to get his obstructive horns through, and then follow with his head; though his shoulders would prevent him from going only so far. Phil thought he had been neatly trapped, and his next move was of course to slip out of the circle by another exit.

"Wonder now if I dare skip out, and leave him there?"

Phil asked himself this as he saw that the moose had already taken the alarm over his condition, and was acting wildly, twisting his head in every direction, and straining to drag it out.

"What if his horns gave way, or broke off? Oh! that time he came within an ace of getting free! He may be smarter than a turtle, and remember how he pushed in. I'd be in a bad box if he did get free, and chased after me again lickety-split!"

Phil believed it was his best policy to stay there, and watch a while longer, just to see what the animal would do. If some time passed, and the moose did not seem able to extricate himself from his sad dilemma, then Phil believed he could take his hurried departure; though he meant to snap off a picture of the animal first.

"Might as well do that same now, while I have the chance," he went on to say; and stepping well back to where he could get a fine view of the imprisoned moose, he again made use of his camera to advantage.

Hardly had he done so than he saw the animal twisting his head again in a way that threatened to bring about the catastrophe which Phil dreaded. In fact the boy had only time to once more hurriedly gain the shelter of the clump of trees when he saw the moose withdraw his head from its yoke.

"Well, it looks like you might be a smart one," muttered Phil, as he found himself once more fast in the trap, with the enraged animal striking at him with his hoofs, and making all sorts of queer noises that might be taken for threats.

When this had gone on for nearly half an hour, and there was no sign of a cessation, Phil started to exercise his wits again. First he began an investigation of his pockets to see if there might not be some means for bringing this ridiculous and uncomfortable situation to an end.

"What's this?" he exclaimed, as he drew forth a small package and stared at it, as if unable on the spur of the moment to understand what it was or how it came to be there; then it flashed upon him, and he gave a wild shout of joy.

"Why, would you believe it, this must be the little paper of black pepper I had in my pack. Lub was asking for some this morning, while cooking breakfast; and when he handed it back to me I must have dropped it in my pocket without thinking what I was doing, meaning to put it on the shelf when I stood up. Hurrah! if ever a pinch of pepper was worth its weight in gold that time is now. It seems mighty cruel to do such a thing, but what else is left to me?"

Of course it was an easy thing to get close enough to the moose to scatter some of the pepper over his head. It did seem a cruel thing to do, and Phil would never tell the story without a feeling of shame; but he considered that his life was at stake, and hence he was justified in going to such extreme measures.

The actions of the bull moose immediately told that the siege was going to be called off without delay. He shook his head, snorted furiously, and then turning galloped away. Phil saw him collide with a tree before he passed from view, and the sight caused him to utter an exclamation of pity.

"But he'll pull through it in time," the boy was saying, as he came out of his place of refuge; "by to-morrow it'll be pretty nearly over. I wonder if he's learned a lesson, and will give two-legged strangers a wide berth after this. Well, it was all his own fault. He had no need to get into such a tearing rage because I took his picture. But let me tell you I'm as tired as if I'd been running a ten mile race. Every muscle in my body aches from the sudden jumps I had to give."

Phil felt that on the whole he had come out of the scrape with honors. And whenever he looked at that picture of the moose with his head fast among the saplings, it would be apt to remind him forcibly of the adventure.

"No more tramping for me to-day," he continued, shaking his head; "I've had good and plenty of it. The rest can wait for another time. Even if I didn't snap off another view all the time I was up here I'd feel it paid me to come; but I've got a few more cards up my sleeve to play. That flashlight business is going to pan out just great, I can see. Now to head for home. I can imagine how the boys' eyes will stare when I tell them what I've been up against, and prove it with that picture."



CHAPTER XIII

HOW "DADDY" CAME BACK

In order to see more of the country Phil took a notion to change his course while heading for the home camp. This turned out to be another of those little things that occasionally happen by accident, but which afterwards seem to have been inspired.

He had not been walking along more than ten or twelve minutes before he came to a sudden pause.

"What under the sun could that have been," he asked himself, listening intently; "sounded as near like a regular groan as anything could be."

Ridiculous as it might seem, Phil even thought of the suffering moose, and wondered whether the distressed animal could have taken shelter in that thick copse, to moan with pain. Then again he heard the strange sound.

"It must be some one's lying there, and in pain!" Phil observed, though the idea gave him a thrill of apprehension.

He stepped closer, and when for the third time the same type of noise welled out of the bushes he made bold to call:

"Who's there? Do you need any help?"

There was a rustling sound. Then the bushes parted, and he saw a man's face peering at him. Phil could not remember ever having seen that face before, and yet it struck him that he ought to be able to give a good guess who the other was going to turn out to be. He had Mazie in his mind just then; her "daddy" was the only man known to be around that neighborhood.

The other beckoned to him, and as Phil approached he went on to say, in a voice that was half muffled, both with pain and anxiety:

"Oh! I'm glad that you've come, boy. My leg is broken, and I've got to the point where I can't seem to drag myself another yard. I'm hungry too, and crazy for a drink of water. But I was just making up my mind I might as well give up, and be done with it; because if she's dead there's no use of my living!"

That settled one thing in Phil's mind. The man was Mazie's father. Already the boy could see that he did not have the look of a villain. Pain and want had made deep lines on his face, but somehow Phil believed the other was all right.

He could easily imagine what the father must have suffered both in body and mind, with his little daughter lost in that big wilderness, and a broken leg preventing him from searching for her, as he would have wanted to.

Evidently he must be relieved in his mind as speedily as possible.

"Do you mean Mazie?" Phil asked.

The man stared hard at him. Then, as hope struggled into his almost broken heart he burst out with:

"Why do you ask me that? How do you know her name? Oh! boy, boy, tell me she is safe—that you or some of your friends have found my darling child!"

At that Phil nodded quickly in the affirmative, and the man fell backwards as though about to faint from sheer joy. But it was not so, for he struggled up once more to his former sitting posture, as Phil bent over him.

"Safe, Mazie safe after all! Oh! it seems that I must be dreaming, it is too good to be true! Tell me in plain words, I beg of you, boy!"

"She is at the cabin with us, and perfectly well," Phil went on to say, plainly. "I found her crying in the woods. Are you her 'daddy'?"

"Yes, and I have been trying to crawl all the way to the cabin, dragging this wretched leg after me," the man told him; "it seemed as if it would kill me with the pain, but as long as I was able I kept it up, for something seemed to tell me my only hope was there. I meant to beg you to scour the woods, and call her name everywhere. Oh! it is a wonder my hair hasn't turned white with what I have suffered, mostly in mind, for I could stand the rest without whimpering. Mazie is safe! Oh! I see now what a fearful wrong I have done. I vow to repair it as soon as I can travel."

"Will you let me take a look at your leg?" asked the boy.

"Only too gladly, if you think you can do me any good," he was instantly told. "My one longing now is to get to where the child is. To have her in my arms I would endure any torture there could be."

"I happen to know a little about such things, and perhaps could do you some good," Phil went on to tell him. "Then there happens to be a little spring back a short distance for I had a drink there, and the water's icy cold. I'll fetch you some before I hurry to the cabin to get help."

"You are kind, boy; what shall I call you?" asked the man; and evidently from his looks, speech, and manners he was a gentleman, Phil realized.

"My name is Phil Bradley," he said, as he bent down to see what he could do for the injured limb; "there are four of us up here for a little outing. I happen to own a patch of ground bordering on Lake Surprise, and that birch bark lodge is on it."

The man muttered something to himself, and Phil thought he caught the one word "fool." Perhaps he was taking himself to task for acting so on impulse when first discovering the coming of the strangers, whom he must have believed were persons whom he had reason to distrust.

All that could be left until later for discussion among himself and his three chums; Phil felt that his present business was to succor the wounded man.

He found that there was a compound fracture of the bones of the lower limb, not far from the ankle. The man must have caught his foot somehow, and pitched forward heavily.

"Once we get you to the cabin, sir, and I'm sure I can set the bones, and ease your pain greatly," he told the other, presently.

"That satisfies me," the man remarked, closing his lips as though he felt that he could stand anything, now that Mazie was safe. "Please make all the haste you possibly can. Minutes will seem like hours to me until I feel her dear little arms around my neck."

"First I must get you a drink," Phil told him; and without waiting to see or hear anything more he darted off, all his own weariness utterly forgotten in this one desire to render first aid to the wounded.

He had no trouble doubling on his own trail, and thus finding the spring. Since there was no other means for carrying water Phil dipped his hat in, and was soon back alongside the injured man, who drank greedily of the cold fluid, and seemed greatly refreshed in consequence.

"Now I'll run in the direction of the cabin," Phil observed, after he had in this fashion relieved the pressing needs of the other.

"Are you sure you can find me again?" asked the man, anxiously. "If you are in doubt call out, and I'll try to answer. I heard shouts a little while back, but my throat was too dry for me to make a sound above a groan."

"You heard me having a little circus with an angry bull moose that had me backed up behind a tree," Phil told him; "but never fear about my being able to come straight here. I'm woodsman enough for that, and take my bearings as I go. Look for us to come inside of an hour, sir."

With that he was off on a run. Just as he had said with such assurance, he had his bearings, and knew just which way to go in order to reach home. Before twenty minutes had elapsed Phil burst upon those comrades who were clustered in front of the cabin, watching the little girl do some cunning dance steps which she could hardly have learned up there in that wilderness.

Judging from his excited condition that Phil had met with an adventure of some sort, the boys began to ask numerous questions.

"Never mind what it's all about, fellows," he told them. "I want Ethan and X-Ray to come with me right away. Lub, you look after the cabin, and Mazie. Ethan, fetch your camp hatchet; and we will need some ends of rope. Hurry, both of you! I'll explain after we're on the run!"

The blank expression on poor Lub's face told better than words what he thought of being left out in the cold that way. Still, he was so accustomed to doing what he was told that such a thing as rebellion never once entered his head. Besides, he must have realized that some one had to stay with the child. And when it came to sprinting, as Phil seemed to think was going to be necessary, Lub was not built for quick action or long continued running.

Phil had hardly time to draw a dozen long breaths before the other boys announced that they were ready to accompany him.

Wonder was written in big letters all over their faces. The little Phil had said must certainly have aroused their curiosity until it reached fever heat.

"Now, for goodness' sake open up, and tell what all this is about, please, Phil!" begged X-Ray Tyson, as they ran along in company.

It was no time to even mention anything concerning the stirring adventure with that stubborn and combative moose bull. Later on he could relate the story, and perhaps show them the pictures he had taken, to prove his marvelous tale.

"Man up in the woods here a ways, with a broken leg!" he started to say.

"Whee! is that so?" exclaimed Ethan.

"Mazie's 'daddy' for a cookey!" cried X-Ray, always the first to alight on a solution to a puzzling question.

"Yes, that's who he is," Phil went on, jerking out his words somewhat, because he was using up his wind in running. "He broke it while hunting for the child; and has been nigh crazy ever since. Struck him he might get help from us. Started to actually drag himself all the way there. Petered out in the end. Bad shape, too, but think I can pull him through all right!"

"You want us to help get him home; is that it, Phil?" demanded Ethan.

"Yes, we've just got to do it. Poor fellow needs lots of attention. He'd likely die if left much longer. I think gangrene would set in, and finish him. Glad I fetched along my little medicine case, with bandages and such things. Thought one of us might get into trouble, and need it. Handy thing to have around in the woods."

"It sure is," agreed X-Ray Tyson; "but how can we carry a man all the way to the cabin, Phil? If he's that bad hurt it's going to be a hard job."

"Huh! see this hatchet?" demanded Ethan, flourishing the article in question before the eyes of the other. "Well, with that sharp edge it won't be a hard thing to tinker up some kind of stretcher. That's what Phil had in mind when he told you to fetch some rope ends along."