"There's only one explanation Jack, that I can see. Perhaps you remember noticing a little side road that joined with this one about a quarter of a mile back?"

"Of course, I remember it. Then you think——"

"They must have come out of that road ahead of us," Paul went on. "That's the way they got in their licks. Somebody knew about how it turned around, and joined on to the main stem again. What do you say, Jack?"

"Why, of course. And now I remember hearing Scissors boast that he had the only map ever made of the Rattlesnake Mountain country—a logger charted it one winter, hoping to get his governor interested in some timber cutting scheme he had in mind, which fell through though."

"That settles it. They're on the ground first; but what do we care about that, if they only leave us alone?" Paul remarked, seriously.

"There's a call for you, Paul, from some of the fellows in the rear," observed Jack, just then. "I think they want to snap off a view of old Rattlesnake, with the troop stretched out along the road here. The sun is dropping lower all the while, and if we're going to get a picture we'll all want to keep, it ought to be right now."

"A good idea, and I'll do everything I can to help out," laughed the leader.

The command was ordered to fall in, so as to present an orderly appearance in the picture that was to be taken from the rear.

"We don't want to look like a bunch of hoboes trailing along," declared Jud.

"And every fellow quit limping, or you'll just spoil the whole business," pleaded the one who was delegated to use the camera, he being the best expert the troop boasted in this line, and winner in the competition of the preceding Autumn.

The picture taken, they once more broke ranks, and pushed forward.

At five o'clock they found themselves at what seemed to be the base of the high and forbidding mountain over which the road wound.

"Oh! please say Alabama, here we rest!" called one of the limping pilgrims.

Paul had been closely observing the ground, and as if in reply he made a gesture that Bobolink readily understood. Immediately the bugle sounded, and a cheer broke forth, since every member of the troop felt more or less jaded with the long day's walk, and ready to call it off.

Immediately a scene of bustle ensued. The wagon was emptied of its load, and tents confiscated by the various patrols. Good-natured disputes and chaffing accompanied each tent raising; but the boys had by this time become more or less accustomed to the various duties connected with making camp, as well as breaking up, and so in what seemed a very short time all the canvas was in place.

After that fireplaces were scooped out, just as on the previous afternoon; only now they called it an old story. Every boy was learning things he had never known by actual experience before. Reading of such woodcraft in books is very good, but it does not compare with the personal trial. Once these things are actually done by an observant lad, and he will never in all his life forget the lesson.

Long before dusk began to set in, the supper was under way; and hungry fellows walked to and fro trying to stand the intense agony of waiting for the summons.



CHAPTER XVII

JOE DECLINES TO TELL

"Joe, I'd like to have you step over here a minute!"

Supper had been eaten amid the best of feeling. The assembled scouts forgot for the time being all their troubles. Lame feet failed to ache, and tired knees had all the buoyancy of youth again.

The mysterious mountain towered above them, seeming to invite a further and closer acquaintance. Beside the camp ran the brawling stream, and the noise of its rushing water would either lull the tired lads to sleep, or else keep them from doing so. Trees overhung the numerous tents; and on the whole the camp was a pretty sight, as many a lad declared in his log of the trip.

When Joe heard Paul say the few words that begin this chapter he gave a sudden start, and looked up quickly. But the patrol leader and acting scoutmaster had already turned away, and was walking beyond the confines of the camp.

After hesitating a moment Joe scrambled to his feet, and followed his chief. He acted as though he more than half suspected just what it was Paul wanted to say to him; for several times Joe gritted his teeth, and shook his head in a way he had; for he was known to be very stubborn sometimes.

He found Paul on the bank of the Bushkill. He had seated himself on a convenient rock, and was waiting. The moon drifted in through openings among the trees, and falling on the water made it look like silver; with frosting here and there, where the foam splashed up around the rocks lying in the bed of the stream.

"What d'ye want, Paul?" asked Joe, as he came up.

The noise of the moving water was such that he had to elevate his voice more than a little in order to be heard distinctly.

"Sit down here, Joe, please," remarked Paul, pleasantly. "I wanted to have a little talk with you on the side, where none of the boys could hear, that's all."

"About what?" asked the other, weakly.

"Well, perhaps it's none of my business; but since I chanced to be one of those with you the night we found your father, and heard about his losing that little tin box with those valuable papers, I thought perhaps you might be willing to take me into your confidence, Joe. I want to help you all I can. You believe that, don't you?"

Joe moved uneasily. He had accepted the invitation to sit down, but his manner was not at all confidential.

"Why, of course I do, Paul," Joe presently observed, slowly, "I know you're always ready to help any fellow who gets in trouble. There ain't a better friend in the whole troop than you are to everybody. But what's got you now? Have I been a doin' anything I hadn't ought to?"

"You know it isn't that, Joe. I wanted to speak to you about that tin box your father said was taken from him that night."

"Oh, was that it?" remarked Joe, faintly, and catching his breath.

"You believe that I'd like to help get it back for him, don't you?" demanded the young patrol leader.

"I remember hearing you say you'd be glad to have a hand in recoverin' it; and I guess you meant it every time, Paul," came the reply.

"Well," Paul continued, "perhaps the chance may come to me up here on Rattlesnake Mountain, Joe. It would be queer now, wouldn't it, if, in coming up to this country we just happened to land on the chap who was in your father's store that night, and put out the lamp after he had picked up that little old tin box, eh?"

Joe seemed to have some difficulty in answering. He appeared to be swallowing a lump in his throat as though it threatened to choke him.

"Why, yes," he presently managed to mutter, "that would be funny now, for a fact. My dad'd like mighty well to get that stuff back, Paul, sure he would."

"Perhaps then you wouldn't mind telling me who that man was, Joe," remarked Paul, quietly.

"What man?" queried Joe, though his voice betrayed the fact that he knew only too well what his friend was driving at.

"I chanced to see you when that party drove past our noon camp," said Paul, softly. "You recognized him, Joe, I am sure you did; and you showed every sign of being both startled and alarmed."

"Huh! well," Joe stammered, "you see it did give me a sorter start, because he looked like somebody I knew was at the other side of the world right then. I reckon you'd feel upset like, Paul, if you thought you saw a ghost."

"Perhaps I would," replied the patrol leader, quickly; "but you immediately knew that it wasn't a ghost. Still, it has been bothering you all the afternoon, Joe."

"Say, what makes you think that?"

"I've watched you when you didn't think anybody was looking," Paul went on. "I've seen you shake your head and talk to yourself as if you might be trying to believe something your common sense told you couldn't be so. How about it, Joe?"

"Oh! I'm willing to admit I've been mixed up about that thing, and bad too," confessed Joe, as if brought to bay; "but I ain't goin' to say anything about it, not just yet anyhow. I must see dad first, and get his opinion."

"Well, I don't want to force you, Joe, against your will. If you think it best to keep your little secret, do it; but perhaps later on you may be changing your mind. If we just happened to meet up with that gentleman while we knocked around old Rattlesnake Mountain, perhaps you'd be glad to get back that tin box again."

"Sure I would, Paul. Please don't think I'm not wantin' to trust you, because I hold back. I want to think it all over by myself to-night. Perhaps in the mornin' I might tell you about it."

"Then I won't say anything more now, Joe. Only believe that I'm ready to do everything I can to help you. That man came all the way up here."

"How d'ye know that?"

"Why, even a tenderfoot could tell that much," observed the patrol leader, calmly; "his horse left marks all the way. If you went out on the road now, and lit a match, you'd see the print of shod hoofs, and the lines made by the wheels. So you see, Joe, it wouldn't be so strange if we did happen to run across him some fine day."

"Oh! I wonder what I ought to do? What would dad say if he knew?" and muttering half to himself in this way, Joe wandered back to his seat beside the big fire that was making all outdoors look bright with color and warmth.

Paul was more mystified than ever. Who could that man be, and why should poor Joe feel so badly over having set eyes on him? If he were an ordinary person, and suspicion pointed his way, one would think that the son of the feed-man would welcome his detention, which might result in the finding of the stolen property.

But on the contrary Joe seemed to be dreadfully alarmed over something.

"Oh! well," Paul finally said to himself as he left the rock and turned to go back to the camp; "it may be a family secret of some sort, and I have no business to be poking into it. I'll just keep my hands off, and wait for Joe to speak, if he cares to. Besides, I've got plenty of other things to keep me hustling."

He happened to glance up at the frowning mountain while walking away from the river bank. Suddenly there flashed a little light away up yonder. Once, twice it seemed to flash up, and then was gone.

"Now, I wonder what that could be?" said a voice close beside him.

"Why, hello, Wallace, is that you?" laughed Paul; "and I guess you must have made the same discovery I did?"

"Meaning that queer little light up there, eh, Paul?" remarked the other, who had been walking about uneasily, and just chanced to face upward at the time the double flash came.

"Yes. I wonder what it was," Paul went on, thoughtfully. "I happen to know that Ted and his bunch are ahead of us somewhere, and that might have been a signal to fellows who were left down here to do something to upset our camp."

"Now, do you know, Paul," Wallace went on; "I hadn't thought of that. I'll tell you what it looked like to me—some man lighting his pipe. You saw the light go up and down; that was when he puffed. But it was too far away to see any face."

Paul, remembering the man who had gone up the side of the mountain with that rig, wondered very much whether Wallace could be right, and if the unknown was even then looking down upon them from that height.

This made him turn his thoughts back to the noon camp, and try to remember whether the man in the buggy had shown that he recognized Joe at the time the boy so suddenly sprang to his feet with a cry.

At any rate the unknown had whipped up his horse, and seemed in a great hurry to depart from the spot.

That night the Banner Boy Scouts were just as merry as before. A banjo had been brought along, and to the plunkety-plunk of its tuneful music they sang every popular song known among Stanhope's rising generation.

"I just don't exactly like the looks of the sky," remarked Wallace, as the time for sounding taps drew near.

He had found Paul examining the ropes of the various tents as though curious to see how well they had been secured.

"That's why I'm overhauling these tent pins and ropes," laughed the other, as he rose up. "The clouds have rolled up, and it feels as if we might have a bit of a Summer storm. Perhaps it would be a good thing for the boys to have an experience like that, if only our supplies can be kept dry."

When they finally retired, the sky seemed to have cleared again. Paul set his guards and took his place in his tent, for his turn would not come until later.

He was tired and soon fell into a heavy sleep. Jack was on duty, and could be depended on to keep a good watch.

Paul was aroused from slumber by loud cries. Sitting hurriedly up he found the tent wabbling to and fro in a violent manner, while the air seemed full of the most alarming sounds. He crawled out without wasting a minute, and shouted aloud to make the balance of the boys get busy before everything was swept away by the violence of the gale.



CHAPTER XVIII

A CLOSE CALL

"Hold 'em! hold 'em!" whooped William, as he found himself mixed up in the canvas of the tent which had fallen in a heap; for evidently he was of the opinion that all this racket must be caused by those vindictive workers of evil, Ted Slavin and his crowd.

"Look to your tent pins, fellows!" shouted Paul, lustily, as he hurried around to lend what assistance lay in his power.

He had little fear about his own tent, understanding just how it had been put up. But all of the scouts were not so well versed in the little tricks known to those who spend much time under canvas; and there was a chance that others would share the sad fate that had already befallen poor William.

Then there was a great scurrying to and fro. As the storm broke the boys shuddered and held on to the ropes for dear life, regardless of the fact that they were clad only in pajamas, which were soon rain soaked.

"Never mind that little thing, fellows," sang out the care-free Bobolink; "because you know we can get plenty of dry clothes after she's over; but if you let the tents blow away, where, oh! where do we come in? Hold hard, everybody; here comes another bluff at us. Wow! get a grip on my legs, will you? I'm agoin' to fly, that's what!"

But some of his mates held on doggedly, and Bobolink consented to remain on earth a while longer. As long as it lasted it was one of the greatest short storms most of the scouts could remember ever experiencing. But then, up to now, they had been pretty much in the habit of viewing such convulsions of nature from the shelter of a snug harbor in the shape of a home window; and things looked vastly different when the same Summer gale was met, with tents threatening to carry away, and the trees groaning in the furious wind.

"She's over!" cried Jack, at last, when the storm seemed to come to a halt almost as suddenly as it had broken.

No one was sorry. Repairs were quickly undertaken, after the boys had donned some dry clothes; for the air was chilly after the rain, and being soaked to the skin they found themselves shivering.

William had managed to crawl out from under his tent, with the help of others. He had several bumps to prove what a close call it had been. The others could not lose a chance to poke fun at him; for it was not often the opportunity came when the fun-maker of the troop could be caught napping.

"Next time, get a move on you, old slow poke!" one advised, when William ventured to complain that it was mean in their deserting him to his fate.

"Yes, Mr. Tortoise, you'll have to learn how to crawl better than that, if you expect to stay with this fast crowd," declared Tom Betts.

"But every time I started to get out," William declared, ruefully, "somebody would stick his foot in my face, and climb all over me. Then the blessed thing dropped flat, and left me swimming all alone. Of course I thought it was some more of Ted's fine sport, and I hoped you chaps were flagging 'em. After that the water came in on me. Ugh!"

"What did you think then, old molasses in Winter?" asked Bobolink; shaking the last of the water out of his precious bugle, and carefully wiping its brass mouthpiece with his handkerchief.

"Why," said William, grinning, "at first I thought the river had overflowed its banks, and was going to carry me all the way down to Stanhope. Then I heard the wind and the thunder, when it struck me there was something of a storm. So I just laid still; for I knew you fellows wouldn't want me bothering around while you worked like fun to hold the rest of the tents from going by the board."

"Listen to him, would you, Paul?" exclaimed one of the others. "He knew all along we were hard pushed to hold out, and yet he just snuggled there, and wouldn't give a helping hand. What kind of a scout are you, anyway, William?"

"Well," returned the accused one, in his drawling way, "I didn't want to cut a hole in the canvas, you see; and I couldn't get out any other way. Come to think of it, I don't generally carry my knife around in my pajamas, like some fellows do bugles, and such trash."

"Rats!" flashed back Bobolink, disdainfully, "you're just jealous of my noble calling, that's all."

"He's always calling, ain't he, fellows?" asked William. "I expect to see him sit up in his sleep some night, and scare us half out of our lives by tooting away to beat the band. I'm going to get up a petition that the old horn be muzzled every night before we go to our little beds on the hemlock browse."

A fire was, after some little trouble, started. Paul had been wise enough to keep some fine kindling in his tent for just such an emergency. Even had it been otherwise he would have known just how to get at the heart of a dead tree, which would yield the necessary dry wood to make a beginning. Such hunter's tricks were well known to Paul, likewise to Wallace; and before this tour came to an end most of the others would have picked up scores of such bits of knowledge, likely to be of use to them whenever they chanced to be in the great woods.

The sky was clear again long before the last boy had concluded that it was safe to crawl into his tent once more, and try to sleep.

And whoever happened to be on guard, kept the fire going throughout the remainder of that eventful night.

No further adventure broke upon their heads, and in good time dawn appeared in the eastern sky. There was much merriment as the boys went for a morning dip in the waters of the Bushkill. Many jokes were made about the new order of things in camp that necessitated a shower-bath at midnight.

"Be careful, fellows," Paul admonished, as he saw that most of the scouts were bent on trying the water of the rapid little stream. "There's a bad current here, and if it gets hold of you grab a rock and yell. To be dashed down there wouldn't be the nicest thing going."

Jack agreed to keep an eye on the clump, for Paul had duties in camp just then. He expected to take a dip himself a little later on.

Hardly had ten minutes passed before he heard a loud series of shouts.

"Hold hard, Tom! Make a chain there, you fellows, and get him before he lets go! Hurry up, can't you?"

It was Jack Stormways shouting these words. Paul knew instantly that some one must have been caught by the current, and was in danger of being dragged along down the stream to where it dashed wildly against the rocks.

The young patrol leader lost not an instant. Snatching up a rope that happened to lie handy, he rushed for the bank of the river.

Instinct caused him to head for a point below where Jack was standing, trying to reach some object with a long pole he handled awkwardly. Even in that thrilling moment Paul could think, and was able to understand that the ever flowing current must sweep any helpless swimmer past Jack's position in quick order.

As he ran Paul was trying to fashion a loop in the end of the rope. Had he not been perfectly calm he could never have succeeded in doing this difficult feat; but when he reached the bank he had managed to accomplish it.

What he saw was a tumble of water, which was almost covered with foam. Somewhere in this poor Tom Betts must be floating, churned back and forth by the suction of the current that was striving to escape from the whirl.

Jack had evidently lost sight of the drowning lad completely, for he was even then running toward Paul, his face as white as chalk.

There! Paul had just a fleeting glimpse of the boy in the foamy water. He had thrust one arm up rather feebly, as though almost gone. Perhaps his head had come in contact with a rock while he was swimming, and this had dazed him; for ordinarily Tom Betts was a clever swimmer.

Paul waited for no more. He was down the bank like a flash, and wading into the water, regardless of clothes. What did it matter about his getting wet, when a precious human life was in peril.

Again he caught a glimpse of the boy's arm amid all that spud and foam. But the first attempt to throw the loop of his rope over it resulted in failure.

Paul instantly changed his tactics. Reversing the coil, he cast the loop over a friendly stump that chanced to be at hand; then, gripping the rope in his hand, he boldly cast himself into the midst of that whirl of froth and spinning water.

Fortune was kind, for almost immediately he came in contact with the unconscious lad, and was able to throw an arm about him. The fierce stream tried in vain to drag him down into other basins below; but Paul had his hand twisted in the coils of that rope, and would not let go.

"Hold on, Paul; we'll pull you in!" shouted Jack on the bank, as he clutched the lifeline and began to exert his full strength.

"Hurrah! Paul's got him! It's all right!" whooped others, as they lent a hand.

Of course Paul was quickly dragged into shallow water, where willing hands relieved him of his burden. Tom looked dreadful, being deathly white, and very limp. But Paul could not believe the boy had been under the water long enough to be drowned.

Immediately he had the others bring the senseless boy up to the camp, where he was placed on his chest. Kneeling down, with one leg on either side, Paul placed his palms on Tom's back just where the small ribs could be felt. Then by leaning forward, and pressing downward, he forced the air and water from the lungs of the patient; relaxing the movement allowed air to creep in a little, when the operation was repeated time and time again.

Sometimes it may take an hour to make this artificial respiration successful; so that it is not wise to desist until every hope is gone. Many a person has been saved after it seemed next to a miracle that life might be restored.

With Tom it was not a difficult problem. He had been stunned by the blow received in his contact with the rock, and hence little water had entered his lungs.

In five minutes he was showing signs of coming to; his arms, extended above his head while this process of pumping air into him was being conducted, twitched and moved; then he groaned, and finally made a move as if he wanted to get up.

Ten minutes after being taken from the water he was sitting up, and asking what all the fuss was about.

Tom afterwards confessed to a dim recollection of feeling something hitting him a dull blow in the head; after that he knew nothing more until he opened his eyes to see his mates clustered around, and hear them give lusty cheers.

But he heard how Paul had acted so wisely, and while Tom was a fellow not much given to words, at the first opportunity he thanked his friend with tears in his eyes; for he was thinking of a fond mother at home, and what a blow she must have received had he been drowned.

The boys cared little about indulging themselves in any more bathing in that treacherous portion of the fast-running Bushkill. Down around Stanhope they understood its various moods; but up in this Rattlesnake Mountain district it was quite a different thing.

Breakfast appealed more to them, and they went at it with a will. Tom was exempt from any menial labor on that morning. Warmly dressed, and placed close to the roaring fire, he watched his chums work, and thought what a splendid thing it was he had not been alone at the time the accident happened.

And Paul was more than glad it turned out so well. Had a tragedy come to pass, their joyous outing must have met with a sudden halt, and the return journey to Stanhope would have been a sad one indeed.

"What's the programme for to-day?" asked Jack, as they all sat around, eating the fine breakfast the patrol cooks had served.

"Another hike, and this time up the mountain," returned Paul. "It will be our last for a while, at least, for when we get settled in another camp I hope to stay there until our scoutmaster arrives."

"And when do you look for Mr. Gordon, Paul?" queried Wallace, who seemed to have lost his appetite after seeing how near a companion had come to a terrible death.

"Any hour after this. He said he would use my wheel in coming up here, so as to make better time. I'll be glad when he comes," and Paul gave a sigh as he glanced around at the score of boyish faces turned toward him; to let his gaze rest finally on that of genial Tom Betts, whom he had known pretty much all his life.

Nor indeed could Paul be blamed for wishing to pass the responsibility on to broader shoulders, more capable of bearing it. He was only a boy, and it seemed to him that since he had been placed in charge of this expedition, with all its attendant cares and trials, his spirit had been almost crushed.

But the camp was broken, and with much laughter the scouts began to climb the side of mysterious old Rattlesnake Mountain, of course Paul managed to forget most of his troubles, and his merriment rang out as loud as that of any other.

So, boosting and pulling at old Dobbin, they made the ascent by slow degrees, and by noon had reached a point that afforded them a grand view of the country away off toward the south, the east and the west; but it was toward the first named region that many a wishful look was given, for did not Stanhope lie yonder—and home?



CHAPTER XIX

INDIAN PICTURE WRITING



"We'll never get that old horse any higher up than this, Paul," said Jud Elderkin.

The scouts were sitting there with that fine panorama spread out before them, and eating a sort of pick-up lunch. At breakfast time enough food had been prepared to carry them along for another meal. After that Paul had promised that they would very likely be in a permanent camp, and might expect to have decent fare right along.

"Fact of the matter is, Jud," replied the leader of the expedition, "we don't need to, fortunately."

"What's that, Paul; not going to camp right here, I hope?" questioned the scout leader of the second patrol.

Jud shot a swift look across the country down below, and Paul smiled when he saw the direction of the glance.

"I understand what you mean," he remarked, immediately. "You imagine that if we stayed here any length of time some of the tenderfeet would be running away."

"Oh! well," Jud went on to say, "what would be the use of tantalizing the poor chaps? Hear 'em disputing right now whether that shining thing they see far away in the distance is the brass hand on the top of the church steeple in Stanhope, or the wind vane on the court house cupola? Anyhow, it stands for Stanhope; and if they were where they could stare out yonder by the hour some of 'em would skip before another night, I'm afraid."

"And you're just right, old fellow," Paul remarked. "I'm glad you noticed that sign, for we'd hate to have any desertions, now that we've made such a great start. But your other guess was away off. I haven't the slightest idea of holding over here."

"Then the road——" began Jud.

"Makes a bend just beyond," Paul broke in with, "and goes no further up that way. This is the last peep any of us are likely to have of far-away Stanhope till we come out again on the way home."

"That's all right, then. Now that you mention it, I can see how the road does take a turn a little way along. What do you suppose we're apt to strike there, Paul? I'm more than anxious to get wise."

But the acting scoutmaster only shrugged his shoulders.

"You really don't know, then?" continued Jud.

"Only what I've heard. Some say there's a fine lake back here a few miles. And that's what I'm hoping to strike, for a spot to camp," returned Paul.

"Well, I've heard that same thing," said Jud, slowly, "but never more than half believed it. Just as like as not we'll find it only a duck pond. But a camp always seems more like the real thing if it's only near water."

"I always thought so," Paul admitted, "and I've been in a few dandy camps in my time. My people have gone up in Maine every Summer for a long while, you know. But this year they are going to stay home for a change. Father hates to turn over his practice to any one else; and to tell the truth I said I wanted to be right here."

"Bully for you, Paul. We all feel that we owe you a lot for the way you've stuck to us through thick and thin. We'd never have won that banner there if——"

But Paul would not listen.

"Stow that sort of talk, Jud!" he exclaimed. "I've done my best, but it wasn't any more than lots of the other fellows could do. If we'd gotten hold of Mr. Gordon in time he'd have made a better troop than we were. He knows a heap along many lines."

"Yes," remarked Jud, with a nod, "by theory, but I just bet you if it came down to practice you could beat him out every time. But what was it I saw you doing at our last camp, just before we pulled up stakes?"

"I was leaving a letter for Mr. Gordon when he came along," replied Paul, with a mysterious smile.

"What sort of a letter now, I'd like to know? Seemed to me you were marking on a piece of birch bark, which you stuck on a stick close to where our fire had been. And Paul," with a grin, "I had the curiosity to take a sly look at the same as I passed by."

"Yes. What did you see?" asked the patrol leader, quietly.

"Why, it looked to me like you'd gone back some years, and started drawing funny animals, and such things," replied Jud.

"Just what they were, old fellow," said Paul, confidentially; "but when our scoutmaster takes one of these slips of bark up, he'll read what I've marked on it just as you would a letter. He and I have become deeply interested in the old method of Indian picture writing, you see. Signs stand for words with them. A whole story can be made in a dozen characters or groups."

"Oh! I remember something about that I read once," remarked Jud, with a look of deep interest; "and if you don't mind I wish you'd give me a few pointers about that sign business, some time. I'd like to know, the worst kind."

"Oh! no trouble about that. All you have to do is to use your head a little, and make your signs plain enough so that they can be understood. Now, I'm going to leave a letter for Mr. Gordon right here. Watch how I do it," and Paul picked up a good-sized bit of clear bark he had evidently prepared for the purpose.

"You see," he began, "I use a lead pencil because it's more convenient, that's all. If I didn't have it, I'd just take a black brand from the fire; or even scratch the characters on the smooth bark. And first of all to tell him that twenty-one white soldier boys camped here."

He rapidly drew just that number of rude figures, diminutive enough to be crowded around what was plainly a spread out luncheon. They had hats on their heads, and a flag was to be seen in the picture. A wagon and a horse occupied one corner.

"Now," Paul went on, "you see that I've indicated these fellows spent a brief time here. He will understand that it was noon from the round sun I've drawn directly above the cluster. To show that they are eating I have made a coffee pot in the hand of one, though that was hardly the truth, for we've had none this time. But I guess it's always allowable to stretch things just a little in these picture stories. They were white because they all wear hats. Do you get it, Jud?"

"Easy as falling off a log. Why, I could read that myself, if I was lost and happened to fall into this place," replied Jud, positively.

"Sure you could," laughed Paul. "That's the object of this picture writing; to make it so clear that anybody would know. We're not trying to puzzle people now. This isn't what you'd call a cryptogram; not much. It's the primer of writing. A kid could tell what it all stood for. And these Indians are just like kids, you see."

"Well, go on," pleaded the leader of the second patrol, "I'm dead stuck on this thing, for I can see what lots of fun we will have with it up in the woods. How are you going to tell Mr. Gordon that we hiked out of here, and headed due west from this point?"

"Oh!" answered Paul, readily enough, "I might use just the letter W; but you see that wouldn't do for an Indian, who doesn't know what it means. To him west means the setting sun, just as east is signified by its rising, and noon by an overhead disc. So suppose I draw a rude hand, with the finger pointing toward a sun that is half down behind a line? Wouldn't that be apt to tell him we went west from here?"

"Why, dead sure. He couldn't mistake that. The level line I take it is meant for the horizon?" Jud continued, deeply impressed by the simplicity of this method of communicating between separated friends.

"Yes. Well, now he knows which way we've gone. We don't know ourselves just how far we expect to hike this afternoon. It may be only a mile, and it may be two. But we want to tell him that we mean to go into camp, and that the setting sun will find us with our tents up, and a fire burning."

Paul, while speaking, started to once more make some marks on the balance of the smooth bark, which he had himself peeled from a nearby birch.

"There," he presently declared, holding the pad up, "you see how I've made the camp. The tents are set, supper cooking, and just twenty-one little marks tell that so many soldiers are around the fire, all but three who stand guard. And in beyond, the sun is going down, almost out of sight in fact. No trouble about such a simple story, eh, Jud?"

"It's as plain as a book, plainer than most I've ever read. No getting mixed up in such a story. But I'm wondering what that big circle close to the camp means?" and Jud pointed as he spoke.

"Oh! I'm glad you spoke. Mr. Gordon himself might well wonder what that was, for I left out the most important part. Now watch, and tell me if you can hit it," with which remark Paul made several tiny dashes with his pencil.

Jud gave an exclamation of delight.

"Boats—real Injun bark canoes, as sure as you live!" he observed.

"And boats don't run on dry land as a rule, do they, Jud?" Paul went on.

"Well, not so you could notice. That circle then, must be our lake, or pond, we ain't so sure which, yet. The story is now complete, Paul from start to finish. But sometimes it must be hard to tell things that happened."

"That's where the fun comes in," Paul continued; "lots of happenings make a fellow sit up and take notice, when he tries to picture them so plainly that the other can read it right off the reel. I had a tough nut to crack this morning."

"About that little adventure of Tom Betts in the river," interrupted Jud. "Tell me how you did it. A crooked little mark would show the river; but I'm blessed if I can see how you made out the drowning act, and the rescue."

"I'll tell you how I did it," Paul went on; "and when Mr. Gordon comes we'll find out if he understood my letter, or thought it meant something else. I'm only a beginner in this business, you know, and expect to improve, for I see where we can have lots of fun out of it."

"But the letter?" said Jud, impatiently.

"In the river I had several of the boy scouts bathing. All had their hands down but one, whose arms were up over his head. That told of his being in danger. Then on the bank I showed a ring around two, one on the ground. Just beyond these, two were moving off, arm in arm. That ought to tell him that the drowned boy recovered. And when the company formed to go on the road I was very particular to have the exact twenty-one in line. How's that?"

"Great," cried Jud, excitedly; "you've got me head over ears in this picture writing business, and I'm going to study it up. There's a book home that has a lot about it. Me to swallow the same when we get back. And while we're up here I'm going to get you and our scoutmaster to teach me what you know."

"All right," laughed Paul, getting up. "Now notice that I stick this where he will be sure to see it. And perhaps we'd better be on the hike once more, because we don't know what we've got ahead of us. Number Three, give the call to break camp!"



CHAPTER XX

CAMP SURPRISE

On the march the scouts had more than a few times amused themselves by practicing some of the many maneuvres they had learned. For instance, a detail was left with signal flags on a prominent knoll; and later on, when the main company had arrived at a certain point half a mile further along the road, a series of communications would be exchanged between the two detachments.

As a record of all such wigwagging was kept, it would be easy to learn just how proficient they had become in manipulating the various colored flags, or in making the many different arm gestures that conveyed the meaning of the intended message.

Among their supplies they also carried a complete telegraph equipment. After they were finally located in a definite camp it was intended to have one or more stations, and both send and receive messages from time to time.

Thus, in these and many more genuinely interesting as well as instructive ways, they expected to make their tour a most profitable one.

Some of the boys became quite sober as they saw the grand view of the plateau and valley blotted out after leaving the noon camp. They brightened up after a while, however, since there were dozens of things to draw their attention, and arouse their boyish interest.

Dobbin had all he could do to pull the wagon over the rough road, so full of stones, and so overgrown had it become. Still, Paul noticed as he went along, that those marks of the wheels, and the prints of a horse's hoofs showed, telling that the vehicle occupied by the stranger, whom Joe Clausin seemed to have recognized, must have kept on this way.

They were now surrounded by the very wildest kind of scenery. It looked as though a tremendous convulsion of Nature must have occurred at some remote age; for giant rocks were piled up in great heaps on every hand, many of them covered with creeping vines. Trees grew in crevices, and wherever they could lodge.

"Whew! ain't this the toughest place ever, though?" remarked William, as he gaped around him at the frowning heights, and the little precipices that the road skirted.

"It's just what they told us, though, even if we wouldn't believe what we heard," declared Wallace, who was deeply interested in the big ferns that cropped up, and dozens of other things most boys would never have noticed.

Several were kept busy snapping off photographs.

"Better go slow with that, fellows," warned Paul; "because we expect to be here ten days or so, and you'll find lots of chances to get action in your pictures, with this grand scenery for a background. And the one whose films run out will wish he'd been more careful. I'd advise that you don't take too many duplicates; because, you see, good pictures can be passed around to all, and the greater variety we have the better."

After that the camera brigade, taking warning, got together, and formed a set of rules that would prevent waste. It was a point worth noting.

When they had been moving in and out along this rough and winding road for some time, anxious glances began to be taken ahead.

"Where's that fine old lake, I wonder?" grumbled one.

"Perhaps there ain't anything doing," observed another lame one, as he limped heroically along in the midst of the trailing band, and tried to forget the sore feeling in his feet.

"Well," quoth William, with one of his famous grins, "it wouldn't be the first time we'd been stung; and I guess it won't be the last. But don't holler before you're hurt, fellows; because there's water ahead I reckon, if the signs don't lie."

"How d'ye know, old wiseacre?" demanded Bob Tice, of the second patrol; for at the time they were marching without the least semblance of order.

William struck one of his amusing attitudes, and slapped himself on the chest, as much as to say: "Look at me, and take pattern, because I'm the one who knows this game from Alpha to Omega, the beginning and the end!"

"Hark! and I'll give you a pointer, fellows. A true scout must always keep his eyes wide open. No sleepy fellow can ever make a howling success of this business. I leave it to Paul here, if that ain't the truth?" and William turned to the other, who was smiling as though he suspected what had happened to meet the eyes of the speaker.

"That," said Paul, "is one of our beliefs, sure enough. A scout must always be on the alert, or else he may miss many things that would give him valuable information. William, suppose you go on and spin your yarn in your own way. I saw what you did; but I'm glad I didn't cut in. Strike up, now, and then we'll move on again, for Dobbin is coming yonder."

"Yes," remarked the party addressed, "and if you notice the old duffer you can see that he's showing more animation than he's exhibited this hour back. It ain't that Curley's been using the whip either, for that don't hurt Dobbin any, his hide is so thick. He smells water in the air, fellows, that's what!"

"Was that what you noticed?" demanded Tom Betts, who seemed to have fully recovered from his accident of the morning.

"Not much. It's only what my dad would call corroborative evidence, or proof," remarked William; whose father, although a blacksmith, was considered one of the best read men in Stanhope, and able to argue with Judge Holt on legal matters.

"What did you see, then? Don't bait us so, William. Did you get a squint of the pond through the trees? Funny nobody else saw it then," grumbled Jud.

"Y-y-yes, for g-g-goodness sake t-t-tell us before we d-d-drop dead!" cried Bluff, who always stuttered worse when excited.

"I just happened to be looking up over the tops of that big clump of trees ahead when I saw a bird; and he told me there was water below," remarked William, calmly.

"I didn't hear a single squawk," remarked Andy Flinn, warmly; "and even if I had, d'ye expect me to belave that ye understand the birrd language. Oh! come off. Be aisy with us, and roll your hoop, William!"

"Oh!" William blazed up, "you doubt my word, but that bird told me just as plain as words could there was water below. He was circling up, so as to get above the trees, and put for his nest. And, fellows, when I tell you it was a fish-hawk, with his dinner in his claws, you can understand what I guessed right then and there."

"Hurrah! for William! He's our keen-eyes! Nothing escapes his eagle vision. He's all to the good!" came the shouts, amid more or less laughter.

And after that there was no holding the eager scouts in. It seemed as though they could themselves scent the water, just as the wise old Dobbin had; for helter-skelter the entire troop started to make a wild dash ahead.

Even the cripples forgot to limp, and stifled their groans; for they surprised themselves by their ability to sprint with the rest.

The first to round the clump of rocks and scrub gave a shout that echoed from the adjacent mountain side; while, he waved his hat above his head to indicate his delight.

As the others skirted the obstruction they too gave way to enthusiasm, and the cheers that rolled forth must have startled the hawks, and wearers of fur in this remote region, since they could never before have heard a genuine boyish whoop.

There was a lake before them, as wild looking a body of clear water as any one could ever expect to find, even in the Adirondacks. Indeed, Paul, and several others, who had been around more or less, declared that they had never before looked on so desolate a picture.

Nowhere was there the slightest sign of human habitation. And upon the lonely sheet of water not a solitary craft of any description could be discovered. So far as they could see the Banner Boy Scouts owned the whole region!

"Alabama! here we rest!" chorused the whole troop, gleefully, as they started on a run for the near shore of the lake.

"Don't go far away, any fellow," warned Paul, knowing the weakness of boys when new and novel scenes beckon them on.

He had good reason to speak in this manner; for judging from the appearance of the country by which the lake was surrounded, any fellow who was unlucky enough to get lost, before he secured his bearings, might have a serious time of it.

Of course the boys had been taught various ways of telling the four points of the compass. Sun, moon and stars could be depended on when visible. On a cloudy day or night the bark of the trees would serve as a guide; since the green, mossy side was almost invariably toward the north. Besides, Paul knew how to make a compass out of his watch, though he generally carried a real magnetic needle in his pocket for emergencies.

He and Wallace, accompanied by Jack, set to work looking the ground over, with the idea of picking out the best place suitable for a camp.

"It must be not far from the lake, because we want this nice view," said Paul. "Then it ought to slope just a little, so as to drain, in case of a heavy rain storm. We don't want to be under any of those big trees either; and you can see why, if you notice what happened to one of them long ago."

"Yes, that's so," declared Jack; "for a bolt of lightning did knock that one down, sure as you're born. How's this place, Paul?"

A selection was presently made that answered the purpose. Paul was of the opinion that it would be open to the sweep of the western wind in case of a violent wind storm; but then they hoped nothing of the sort would visit them while up here in camp.

Once the word was given, and every boy got busy. Tents were pitched with rapidity, and having had one rude experience every fellow made sure that his pins were driven deep into the ground. In some places where this was not possible they made use of obliging rocks to hold the canvas snugly down.

The flag pole was cut, and planted under Paul's directions; and soon Old Glory floated proudly in the breeze, with their prize banner just below it.

"What shall we call the camp?" went up the cry.

"We had Camp Misery and Camp Rescue; what's the objection to calling this Camp Surprise?" asked Wallace, quickly.

"That's a good name! Camp Surprise it is!" shouted several in chorus; and as such the permanent camp went down in the log book of every scout.



CHAPTER XXI

THE LIGHT ON THE MOUNTAIN

"Paul, we're not alone up here after all!"

It was Jack who made this remark. He had been skirmishing around later in the afternoon; and came upon the other as Paul was standing at the edge of the lake, looking out upon its surface, to where some ducks floated.

"Well, I never believed we did own the place," returned the patrol leader, with a smile. "But what's happened to give you that idea, Jack?"

"Just by chance," his chum went on, "I saw something moving away up on the side of the mountain. At first I thought it might be some sort of animal; but as I watched I made sure it was human, either a boy or man. And whoever he was he kept track on what we were doing down here. I could see him crane his neck to look, lots of times."

"But you couldn't recognize him?" asked Paul.

"It was pretty far, and there's a sort of haze around us just now. Sometimes I thought I knew him, and then I made up my mind I didn't," came the reply.

"Is he still there, Jack?"

"Yes, but don't look up," said his chum, quickly. "We are in too plain sight here. I thought perhaps you might step into the tent and get our field glasses. Then we could slip away, and take a good look on the sly. How's that suit you?"

"All right. Meet me at the place where you saw him. Where was that, Jack?"

"See that bunch of hemlocks over yonder? I happened to be partly sheltered back of that when I looked up. I'll wait for you there," and Jack moved off.

Two minutes later Paul joined him. He had the field glasses tucked under his khaki coat, not wishing to attract the attention of the others, lest they might express a wish to trail along, and so spoil things.

"Now, tell me where to look," he observed, as he suited the glasses to his eyes, knowing just how far they should be opened to give the best results.

Jack pointed carefully upward.

"He's there yet, because I saw him move while I waited for you, Paul," he said, in an eager tone.

"I've got him," answered the scout leader, as his hands became rigid.

After a brief look he lowered the glasses.

"Well, who is it?" demanded Jack.

For answer his chum offered him the glasses; and presently Jack had his eyes glued to the smaller end.

When he lowered them a short time later his eyes met those of his chum. Both of them laughed, as though they had exchanged their views in that glance.

"Ted Slavin?" said Paul.

"Just as sure as fate," went on Jack; "and much interested in our doings. That of course means trouble for us at any time. I believe all those fellows have come up here for is to pick quarrels with us. But Mr. Gordon will know how to handle them when he gets here."

"Meanwhile," said Paul, seriously, "we must be on our guard against a sudden attack. We don't want the name of our camp to mean that we were taken unawares. We'll have things fixed so the boot will be on the other foot, if they try to surprise us."

When they looked again, the figure had vanished from that point high up among the rocks. Evidently Ted, having seen all he wished, had gone to tell his cronies the story.

"Where d'ye think they've located; because never a tent did they bring along?" Jack was asking as they returned to camp.

"Oh! up here that wouldn't matter much. Looks like there might be hundreds of caves of all sizes among these piled-up rocks. And a cave is a pretty good hide-out sometimes. I've spent lots of nights in one."

The afternoon sun had vanished behind another elevation that lay to the west; but night was slow in coming, since these were some of the longest days of the year.

Paul could not help noticing that Joe Clausin seemed worried once more. He kept by himself a good bit of the time, and his brow was clouded. Then again, he had taken to looking suspiciously about, here and there, up the steep mountainside, and even along the dimly-defined road that skirted the lake.

It was no mystery to Paul, so far as understanding what Joe might be worrying about went.

"That man with the rig who passed our noon camp on the road—Joe knows he's up here somewhere, and perhaps he wants to meet up with him—I wonder why?" was the way the young scoutmaster ran the thing over in his active mind.

In one way it did not concern him, because Joe had not asked for his assistance; but then again it certainly interested Paul. He believed that there was some odd connection between the loss of those papers contained in the tin box, and the presence of that stranger in the region of Rattlesnake Mountain.

Again, as before, the pressure of many other things caused him to push all concern about the mysterious stranger from his thoughts.

When supper had been cooked and the scouts sat around enjoying its delights, the shadows of coming night told that another period of sentry duty was at hand.

"No Mr. Gordon to-night, I reckon," ventured Jud Elderkin, as he sat with his tin plate upon his knees, and scooped up the luscious Boston baked beans with his fork; while a steaming tin cup of mild coffee stood beside him.

Most of the boys were not used to this appetizing drink for supper; and a few of them did not take it, being satisfied with cold water; but Paul had considered the matter, and was of the opinion that a little change from the regular programme of home life would not hurt these hardy chaps, especially as they were so tired that nothing could keep them awake, once they lay down.

"I guess you're right, Jud," remarked Paul, "and I'm sorry too."

"Oh! well, we're not worrying," declared Jud, looking around at the ring of bright faces, and nodding, "are we, fellows?"

"Mr. Gordon's all right, and a mighty fine gentleman; but we don't really need him," declared one, promptly.

"Not so you could notice it, while we've got such smart guides as Paul and Wallace along," declared Tom Betts.

"D-d-don't you g-g-go to forgetting W-w-william here; he's t-t-turned out just a w-w-wonder, you know!" burst out Bluff, vigorously waving his knife and fork.

"It's William the Discoverer after this, fellows; for you know he proved that this bully old lake was here, long before any of us had set eyes on it!" argued another scout.

"Joking aside, boys," remarked Paul, earnestly, "I hope a few more of you will take a pattern from the way William learned that fact. If you only keep your eyes about you all the time, there are dozens of things just as interesting that you can read in the plain signs. And the deeper you dig into the Indian way of knowing things the better you'll like it. Please fill up my platter again, William, if there's enough to go around a second time. You're getting better as a cook every day you live."

As always, the utmost good cheer existed around the rude mess table which had been constructed by several amateur carpenters, while the rest were doing other necessary things.

It was meant to go under the big "round-top," as the scouts came to call one of the extra canvas spreads; and could be moved to the open at pleasure, during good weather.

"Oh! I think he's a bum chef, and ought to get bounced!"

Every one stared at Joe Clausin as these words appeared to proceed from his mouth, and no one looked more surprised than Joe himself.

"If I've just got to eat his messes, you'll have to carry me back to good old Stanhope, and mother's cookin', that's what!" Joe persisted in saying, though no one saw his lips move.

"Hey, what d'ye think of that, fellows?" exclaimed William, trying to look indignant. "Here I've been breaking my back trying to get up the right kind of grub for the patrol, and this ungrateful member kicks me when I ain't looking!"

"But I never——" started Joe, when he was cut short again.

"Now don't you go to saying you didn't mean anything, because the boys heard you speak right out in meetin'!" exclaimed William, getting up, and throwing his hands out as though he meant to wash them of the whole business.

"But William," the accused boy went on, eagerly, "didn't I eat more'n any one else? I declare I never said your cooking was off color. It's really decent, and I'm ready to tackle anything you try. Somebody's joshing us—somebody's putting the words in my mouth."

"It's Bobolink changing his voice," called out Paul, laughingly.

"Sure it is!" cried William; "look at his grinning there, for all he makes out to be so innocent. He's up to his old tricks again, fellows; he's practicing that game of ventriloquism on us, that's what."

Whereupon Joe made a dash for the author of his humiliation; but Bobolink had been expecting such a move, and was prepared to sprint out of the danger zone.

It was in this spirit of merriment that they finished their supper. If any of the scouts began to feel a homesick sensation creeping over them, they were manly enough to hide it from the eyes of their comrades.

And later on, when the dishes had been washed systematically, and everything arranged for the night, Paul and Jack sat together watching the stirring scene. The campfire glowed and snapped, boyish laughter and small talk abounded, and beyond the confines of the camp the sentries walked their beats.

"Looks good to me, eh, Jack?" remarked the weary acting scoutmaster.

"Same here," declared his chum, warmly; "though I guess you'll be right glad when Mr. Gordon comes. To-morrow you said we would have some tests of endurance, whether he is on hand or not. I think that is a good idea. But look yonder, Paul. Isn't that a moving light away up on the side of Rattlesnake Mountain?"

And Paul, turning quickly in the direction indicated, was thrilled to discover once more the phantom jack-o-lantern flickering light that had mystified him on that other occasion. This time Wallace could not have said it seemed to be made by a man lighting his pipe, for it was too steady. It moved to and fro, now clear, and again dim. Then even while the two boys stared, it suddenly vanished from sight.



CHAPTER XXII

THE NIGHT ALARM

"It's gone!" exclaimed Jack, drawing a long breath.

"Seems like it," remarked Paul, with a trace of excitement in his usually steady voice; for that strange moving light mystified him.

"What do you suppose it could be?" asked his chum, relying as always upon the ability of Paul to solve the puzzles.

"Oh! well, that isn't hard to guess," returned the scout leader. "Somebody was moving about with a lantern, as sure as you live. The question that bothers me is to say who the fellow can be."

"There's Ted and his squad; we happen to know they're roaming around these regions somewhere," suggested Jack, quickly.

"That's true," said Paul, thoughtfully; "and it may be one of that crowd; but somehow I doubt it. In the first place I don't believe they were smart enough to fetch even a lantern along. You know they brag about how they can go into the woods with only a hatchet and a few cooking things, and enjoy life. But we didn't come up here to endure things."

"Not much," declared Jack; "we want all the comforts of a well managed camp. And in the line of fun we've got a string of things laid out that will keep us doing stunts every hour of the time. But if not Ted's toadies, then who could be wandering about up there? Can you give a guess, Paul?"

Paul could; but then he debated with himself whether he ought to take Jack fully into his confidence. He decided that as they had been chums so long, and shared each other's confidences, he ought to speak. Besides, Joe had shown no intention of confiding anything in him.

So in low tones he told about the queer actions of Joe Clausin when that man in the vehicle had gone by; and the few words he had heard the boy scout mutter. After that he related the incident of his interview with Joe.

"Say, that is mighty funny," observed Jack, after he had listened to the whole story.

"Don't you think the same as I do, and that Joe recognized that man?"

"It looks that way to me. And he seemed to guess something that was anything but pleasant to him," replied his chum.

"Speak plainly, Jack," said Paul, eagerly, catching the other's eye, "you mean that he must have connected the presence of that man here with the robbery of his father the other night? Is that it?"

"I reckon that was what flashed into Joe's mind," remarked Jack; "he thought this man was at the other side of the world, he said, did he? Well, the very fact that he had turned up here at such a time looks mighty suspicious. Paul, what if we happened to run across him while we were in camp here; wouldn't it be a great thing if we found that old tin box for Mr. Clausin?"

"I was thinking about something. Did you happen to get a good look at the face of that man as he drove past?" asked the scout leader, gravely.

"Well, no, I didn't, to tell the truth. I happened to be doing something just then, and when I looked up I only saw his back. But what of it?" asked Jack, knowing that his comrade would not speak in this way without a motive.

"I did, and it's been bothering me ever since," came the reply.

"How was that? Did you know him?" demanded Jack.

"I seemed to see something familiar about him, and yet I couldn't just get hold of it. And Jack, just while we were talking it over, and I was telling you about what Joe said to me in his confusion, it flashed over me who he made me think of."

"Who was that?" demanded his chum.

"Joe!" answered Paul, quietly.

Of course Jack was stirred deeply when he heard that.

"Oh! I wonder what it can mean?" he exclaimed. "I've known Joe for more than five years now, and so far I've never heard that he had a brother. You know they came to Stanhope from down in Jersey somewhere. Do you really think it might be so? This fellow, who was, as he believed at the other side of the world, in China or the Philippines perhaps, may have come home to rob his father!"

"Hold on," laughed Paul; "you're getting too far ahead, old hoss! Don't jump at things that way. This man looked too old to be any brother of Joe's. He might be an uncle, though. Uncles sometimes go bad, I guess, and do things that make their relatives ashamed of them. Suppose we leave it at that, and wait to see if we happen to learn anything more."

"But Joe knows," persisted Jack, doggedly.

"That's right," replied Paul, seriously; "but don't forget that it's his secret, and as true scouts we've no business to go prying into his affairs unless he asks our help. Forget it all for a while, and let's talk about what we have laid out for to-morrow. I do hope Mr. Gordon shows up. I wonder if he can read the Indian talk I left in each place we stopped."

They were soon deep in the various interesting features of the programme as mapped out for the next day. Having now settled into what they expected would be the permanent camp of the tour, the boys were wild to get down to business, and show their efficiency in the various lines which they favored.

"Listen to 'em gabble like a pack of old women," laughed Jack, as the friendly argument about the crackling fire grew more heated.

"Bob Tice is demanding why they didn't think to bring a portable dark room along, so he could develop his films in the daytime," said Paul, after listening a minute; "and Jud is explaining to the novice that with his new film tank there's no need of any such thing, for he can do all that work right in the tent at noon."

Many other subjects were discussed about that blazing fire, and much information passed around.

Strict discipline was maintained in camp, just as though the scoutmaster himself were present to enforce it.

At the hour appointed, Bobolink tooted his bugle, and immediate preparations for retiring commenced. Twenty minutes later taps sounded, and every light had to go out save the one fire that occupied the centre of the camp.

Three sentries paced to and fro, and they had been given to understand that any failure to keep constant watch would meet with prompt punishment. They knew that Paul meant to enforce his orders; and suspecting that he might creep out under the rear of his tent to make a secret rounds, they were one and all determined that nothing should cause them to fail in their duties.

Paul was asleep in his tent with two of his mates, when something suddenly awoke him. He sat up to listen, and again heard the sound. It was a dull thud, as of a hard object falling to the ground. Then came a distinct splash in the nearby lake.

"What in goodness can it be?" he thought, as he listened for a repetition of the strange sounds. "Hello! what's going on, Paul?" Jack asked at that moment, raising his head as if he too had been awakened by the several thumps, and wondered what his chum was doing sitting up.

"That's what I'm trying to guess," replied Paul, quietly.

"Sounds as if it was hailing to beat the band!" exclaimed Jack, as a series of continuous thumps came.

Just then some one burst in at the open flap of the tent. It proved to be Bluff Shipley, who had been appointed sentry from the Red Fox Patrol.

"Paul, c-c-come out here, q-q-quick!" he cried, in considerable excitement; and as this condition was always bad for the poor fellow's twisted tongue, he began to "fall all over himself," as Jack expressed it, when he attempted to go on and explain what had happened.

In the jumble, however, Paul caught something that gave him the clue he wanted—"Ted Slavin" and "rocks!"

He quickly got inside some clothes, not even waiting in his hurry to remove his pajamas. When he crawled out of the tent he found a number of the scouts had been aroused. Their angry shouts were heard on every hand; for a shower of stones was descending upon the camp from some point further up the abrupt side of the mountain.

"It's that Slavin crowd, as usual!" cried Jud, furiously, rubbing his arm where he had been struck.

"We've just got to get after them with a hot stick!" exclaimed Wallace, who was usually the warmest advocate of peace in the troop; but this constant and vicious annoyance on the part of their rivals was proving too much for even his temper.

"Come on, fellows; us to the attack!" called Bobolink, with his accustomed vim; "this is the limit, and we've just got to flag 'em!"

All discipline was forgotten in the excitement of the moment. Nor did Paul try to show his authority. He was very nearly as indignant as any of them; and had they been able to locate the enemy, possibly there might have ensued a scramble that would hardly have been to the credit of the well known peaceful principles of the scouts.

But the stone throwing seemed to cease about the time the scouts began to climb the side of the rocky elevation. Doubtless Ted and his allies knew that it would be dangerous for them to remain longer; and having stirred up a hornets' nest below, they probably crept away over a path they had mapped out, which would lead to their cave camp.

The boys came back in bunches of twos and threes presently, heated with their useless search, and breathing out all sorts of threats against the disturbers of their peace. On the next night Paul meant to have a vidette posted on the mountain side, whose one particular duty would be to look out for prowlers.

There was no further alarm that night. Possibly Ted and his crowd believed that it would not be wise to go in too strongly for these things. And so another day dawned, that was fated to be full of strenuous doings between sunrise and sunset.



CHAPTER XXIII

WHAT THE EYES OF A SCOUT MAY SEE

"What damage was done last night?" asked Jack, as he and Paul walked around the camp, while the cooks of the several patrols were engaged in getting breakfast over fires built after that clever fashion, partly in holes in the ground.

"Well," replied his chum, "outside of Jud's bruised arm that will handicap him a bit in his work; and one hole through the fly that serves as our mess tent; I haven't been able to find anything. But I picked up several stones that must have come down, and they were big enough to hurt if they had hit any of us."

"What ought we to do?" asked Jack.

"For one I think we've just got to change our way of handling those fellows. The more we try to argue, and hold out the olive branch, the worse they get. I hate to tell the boys we've reached the end of the rope; but what else is left?" and Paul, as he spoke, shook his head, and drew a long breath.

"Oh! nothing but give tit for tat," returned Jack, without a pause, as if his mind had long been made up. "Why, even a Quaker will fight if forced to defend his honor; or some bully attacks his family. They say a worm will turn; which you mustn't take to mean that we are grubs."

"Well," declared Paul, "to-night we'll have a watch set, and if they try that sort of thing again, perhaps they'll find two can play at a bombardment."

The welcome call to breakfast broke in on their dialogue; and being possessed of the ordinary boy's appetite, both Paul and his chum were not at all backward about dropping into their places around the rude table.

Of course pretty much all the talk during the meal was about the unprovoked and cowardly attack of the preceding night. Every time a boy cast his eyes upward, and saw the sky through the ragged hole in the canvas cover, he was noticed to grit his teeth, and look angry.

But Paul assured them that he had a plan ready whereby they could put a stop to this rough treatment. Knowing him as they did, the scouts felt sure he had been driven to the limit of his forbearance. Having gone as far as their code called for in the effort to keep the peace, they would certainly be justified in taking the law into their own hands from this time forth.

"Forget it all until night comes, fellows," said Paul, finally, when they had talked the subject threadbare. "Meanwhile don't think you're going to get any sort of a nap to-day. There will be something doing every minute of the time from now up to supper call. And to begin with, let the dishwashers get busy right away, so as to clear the decks for action."

As every one had satisfied his appetite, and just then cared little whether there was ever such a thing as eating again, they were not sorry to leave the mess tent.

The camp was quickly a scene of animation. Some fellows were busy with cameras, seeking enticing subjects for views that would do them credit when the results of the great hike were examined by a committee later on. Others set about making preparations for the various duties to which they had been assigned. Paul kept his finger on the pulse of everything that took place.

He sent one squad along the shore of the lake to try the fishing. Another was engaged in forming a rude raft so that they could have something on which to paddle around from time to time. Still another group followed Paul and Wallace to hunt for signs of the raccoons they had heard during the preceding night.

Each boy of the bunch was expected to jot down in his note-book the various interesting things they came across as they tramped. Paul gave a few hints; but he wanted them to think it out for themselves.

The most observing would make mention of dozens of things that might never attract the eye of the novice in woodcraft. He would state the species of trees he noticed on either hand; the formation of the rocks, the result perhaps of a former hurricane that leveled many old trees, and the direction which it must have passed along over this country; he would find a multitude of things to mention in the sap-sucker that tapped the dead limb of a tree; the wise crow that cawed at them from a distance; the flashing bluejay that kept just ahead of them; the red squirrel and the little chipmunks that scurried over the ground, to watch with bright eyes from the shelter of some tree, or hummock of up-tilted stones.

There was absolutely no limit to the list of interesting subjects that an observing lad could find to fill pages upon pages in his memorandum book. After he had returned home again how pleasant it would be to read anew these notes, and realize that he could not be termed blind when he passed along the trail.

And then the tracks of the little woods animals, how interesting it was to hunt for them close to the border of the water, where they could be plainly seen in the soft mud.

At first one seemed pretty much like another to the greenhorns; but either Paul or Wallace, who had studied these things before, pointed out the difference; and after that lesson the other fellows could easily tell the tracks of a raccoon from those of a mink or a 'possum, for they found them all.

After that Paul took pains to explain just how differently the imprint of a dog's or a cat's foot looked when compared with those of the wild woods folks. These two were so much alike that Bobolink remarked upon the fact.

"How can you tell them apart, Paul?" he asked, looking at the prints made by the scout leader in the mud.

"That's easy," replied Paul, "if you notice that the dog leaves the track of his nails every time; while puss, well, she sheathes her claws while she walks, keeping them sharp for business when she sights a sparrow or a young rabbit."

"But look here, what's this funny track here? Some baby must have put its hand down in the mud; but that's silly, of course. Whatever made these, Paul?" asked Philip Towne, pointing ahead to a spot they had as yet not visited.

Paul took one look, and smiled. He turned to Wallace, who nodded instantly.

"A muskrat made those tracks, boys," observed Paul; "you see he leaves marks entirely unlike any others we've seen. And here is where our friend, Mr. Crow, came down from his perch where he's been scolding us so long. He wanted a drink perhaps; or expected to pick up a breakfast along the edge of the water, from insects that have been washed ashore."

All these things were very attractive to the boys.

"This thing gets better and better the deeper you climb into it," declared Bobolink, as he wrote away for dear life, jotting down all he could remember of what he had heard.

Some of the boys even made rude but effective diagrams of the various tracks, so that they would have the proof to show if ever a dispute arose concerning the difference between the several species.

Many other things did Paul and Wallace bring to their attention. Why, it seemed as though one had only to turn around up on the side of Rattlesnake Mountain to discover new and wonderful facts that these boys never dreamed of before.

"Where do you suppose this old pile of rocks ever got its name, Paul?" asked one of the scouts, as he looked up at the frowning crest far above.

"I really don't know," replied Paul; "I took the trouble to ask a number of people too, who have lived around Stanhope for scores of years, and they couldn't tell me; they said it had always gone by that name, and supposed that once it was a regular rattlesnake den."

"Why, yes," interrupted Jud Elderkin; "one man told me he remembered when there was a queer chap lived up here, a cripple too, who in those days used to put in all his time hunting rattlesnakes for their skins, which were used to make pocketbooks and slippers and belts out of; and he sold the oil, too."

"Oil?" exclaimed Bobolink, "now, what do you mean by that? Do they use it for lamps, or watches, like they do porpoise oil?"

"How about that, Wallace?" asked Paul, seeing that the reader of the Carberry Twins gave evidence of possessing knowledge along those lines.

"Good for rheumatism, they say," observed Wallace; "athletes also use it to limber up their limbs. It has a commercial value. Some men make a business of hunting rattlesnakes pretty much all the year."

"Excuse me from the job then," said Bobolink, making a wry face. "Ugh! I hate the sight of a snake! Say, you don't think there might be a little bunch of the nasty scaly monsters left over from the old cripple's hunt, do you, Paul?"

"I hope we won't run across any," returned the patrol leader, soberly; "for it's no fun getting struck by the fangs of a rattlesnake. I've never had that bad luck, and I give you my word I'm not hankering after an experience, either."

"But then it might happen to one of us," retorted Bobolink; "and as a wise general I hope you've thought of bringing a gallon or two of strong drink along. That seems to be the only thing that can save a poor fellow when he's been jabbed by one of these twisters; anyhow, that's what I've read about it."

"You're away off then, Bobolink," laughed Paul; "for we haven't a drop of liquor in camp. There's a better way to counteract a snake bite; and I intend telling the whole troop when we gather at lunch to-day, as well as distribute some little packets I made up, under my father's directions."

"But go on," demanded Jud, "now that you've said so much. If a rattlesnake jumped out of those bushes there, and gave me a jab on the leg, how ought I go about it to keep from keeling over? I want to know, and I ain't from Missouri, either!"

"Well," Paul started to say, "in the first place you ought to know that no rattlesnake ever jumps out at anybody. At the slightest sign of danger he coils up, and sounds his policeman's rattle, which is just as near like the buzzing of a big locust as you can get it."

"Say, that's why they call a policeman's club his locust, ain't it?" interrupted Bobolink; at which Paul smiled and nodded.

"If you should get excited on hearing this warning, and rush straight at the snake, not seeing him, why he'd get you. The first thing to do is to free your leg from all clothing, if he struck you, and tie a bandage tight above the mark where his fangs hit. Then get down yourself, or if you have a chum along, and you always will up here, according to the orders to hunt in pairs, have him suck the wound as hard as he can, spitting out the poison."

"Good gracious!" cried Bobolink, "but won't he get the dope instead of you, then?"

"It would never hurt him," answered Paul, quickly, "unless he happens to have a cut about his mouth. If that is the case he must never try to suck a snake bite. Hot water will help nearly as well as sucking. Then use some of the strong ammonia that is in a little bottle, to burn the wound. Never mind the pain, for your life is in danger. Another bottle holds some aromatic spirits of ammonia, which can be taken inwardly, as it is useful to keep up the strength and nerve of the wounded fellow."

"Is that all?" asked the interested Jud.

"Pretty much all," Paul went on. "Don't keep on the tight cord or bandage more than an hour, for it stops circulation, and might bring on mortification, father says. Ease up on it for a bit. The arm will sting like fun, but stand it. If the patient shows signs of collapse, tighten the cord again for a time. Do this several times until you can take the cord off for good."

"Oh! I see," said Bobolink; "by that time the poor chap will either be recovered or else have kicked the bucket. But I do hope none of us get mixed up with one of that old cripple hunter's left-overs. I'm going to keep my eyes about all the while."

"That's a good idea," declared Paul, laughing; "and every fellow ought to follow suit. But let's go back to the camp now, boys. We've had about as much as anybody can cram into their head at one time."

"Here, Paul, please take a look at these marks, and tell me what sort of an animal made 'em!" called out Jud, who had been bending over, half on his knees, as if deeply interested in what he had found.

All of them hurried to the spot.

"Perhaps he's found the spoor of a runaway elephant!" suggested Bobolink, wickedly, with that passing circus in mind.

"More'n likely," observed Philip Towne; "it's a wildcat that's been prowling around the camp. Once, when I crawled out to take my watch, I thought I saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at me over the edge of that little cliff back of the tents."

Paul made no remark. He was himself bending over now, and looking at the ground just where Jud pointed. Those who were watching him saw Paul start, and look closer.

"It must be a lynx; or perhaps a regular old panther has come down here from the North Woods," said Bobolink, really beginning to believe such a thing might be so.

"Hardly," remarked Paul; "but all the same it may mean trouble for us. You can see that these tracks were made by a man, for he had a foot much longer than any of the scouts; and boys, I'm afraid he's been hanging around our camp for some purpose!"



CHAPTER XXIV

THE STRANGEST FISHING EVER KNOWN

"A man!" echoed Wallace, also looking grave; and even while speaking he turned his head to stare upward toward that grim cap of old Rattlesnake Mountain that hung so high above them.

Perhaps Wallace had seen that will-o'-the-wisp light far up the side of the rocky steep on the preceding night, as well as Paul and Jack. He may have been pondering over it since, though neglecting to speak to the patrol leader.

"Well," said Bobolink, with a relieved look, "I'd rather have a two-legged man wandering around our camp than a four-legged tiger-cat, any day."

"Of course you would," observed Jack, drily, "but think how awful it would be if a four-legged man was spying on us!"

Bobolink only snorted at this thrust. It was not often the other fellows had a chance to give him a sly dig; and that was why Jack could not resist the temptation, even while Paul was looking so worried.

"I think we had better run this trail out a bit, fellows," remarked the patrol leader; "and see what he was after. It seems to have come from along the shore of the lake, and struck up the rise about here. What say, Wallace?"

"I'm with you all right," came the immediate reply from the one addressed; "It will give us some exercise, and experience; because once he strikes the rocks we'll have to be pretty smart not to lose him."

Accordingly they all bent their heads low over the spot where that plain print of the boot was to be seen.

"Say, do you know what this makes me think of?" demanded Bobolink.

"Not elephants, panthers, or two-legged men, of course!" chuckled Jack.

"Oh! rats!" expostulated his fellow scout. "Come off your perch, Jack, and talk sense. You make me think of an old Polly, just able to repeat things over and over. But to see us all down on our knees staring at that trail made me remember the alarm of poor old Robinson Crusoe when he found the footprint of the cannibal on his island."

"Well, the comparison isn't so bad—for you, Bobolink," observed Jack; "because while we haven't got an island that we can call our own, we seemed to be the only campers on this lake; and to discover that there is another fellow on the spot ready to dispute our claim makes us feel that we've been taken in and done for. But there goes Paul."

The scout leader was indeed moving off. Still bending low, and making positive of every step, he kept advancing slowly but steadily. When there was the least doubt he asked Wallace for his opinion; for two heads sometimes prove better than one.

Presently they came to where the rocks began to stand out. Here the difficulties increased at a surprising rate, for the impressions were very faint indeed. Still Paul eagerly continued his labor, because there was a fascination about it for him. He dearly loved to solve any puzzle, no matter how bewildering; and in these dimly defined traces of a man's upward progress he found that he had a problem worthy of his very best efforts.

Sometimes the trail seemed utterly to have vanished. Indeed, Jud and Bobolink again and again declared that it was useless trying to pursue it any further. But Paul would not give up, and he had a good backer in Wallace.

This time they would find a broken twig that had given way under pressure. Then again it would be a stone overturned that caught their eye. And a little later the proof of their reasoning was shown in a clear imprint of the foot in a soft patch of earth.

Then the others would exchange glances of wonder, almost awe, and shake their heads, as though they were of the opinion that such work was bordering on magic. But Paul only used common-sense in his trailing, calling to his aid all that he had ever read, heard or seen of the art.

"Hey, we're right above the camp, fellows!" exclaimed Bobolink presently.

Raising his head Paul saw that what his companion said was true. But he did not look surprised; for all along he had felt convinced that the unknown must be making for some spot where he could obtain a good survey of the little encampment without being observed by the sentries while walking their beats.

Two minutes later the quartet found themselves on the brink of the little shelf where Philip Towne, who had given up the pursuit some time back, had, as he declared, seen a pair of yellow eyes during the night.

All of them peered over. The tents were not more than twenty-five feet below. Indeed, that one which contained their supplies lay almost directly under them.

The patrol leader seemed to be possessed of an idea. Perhaps it originated in certain marks which he had discovered in the thin layer of earth along the edge of the shelf.

"I think I know why this party hung about the camp so long last night," Paul remarked, when he looked up; and the others hardly knew whether the expression on his face stood for amusement or chagrin.

"If it was daytime when he came, I'd think he wanted to get a great picture of the outfit; but in the night, nixy," remarked Bobolink, who always had an opinion, one way or the other.

Wallace himself looked puzzled.

"Don't keep us strung up any longer, Paul," he pleaded. "What's your idea?"

"Put out your hand, then, just back of that bush, and see what you find," and Paul pointed while speaking to a particular little scrubby plant that had evidently been partly broken down by the passage of some heavy object over it.

"A string!" exclaimed Wallace, as he held it up.

"Somebody been flying a kite!" ejaculated the ever resourceful Bobolink.

"Suppose you pull it in," continued Paul.

When Wallace had drawn about eight yards of the stout cord he gave a grunt.

"Well, what did you strike?" asked Paul, smiling with confidence.

"Why, hang it, if it isn't a fish hook!" cried Wallace.

"Oh! the looney has been fishing here; now, what d'ye think of that?" exclaimed Bobolink, in apparent glee.

Wallace, however, understood at once. He again looked over the edge.

"But Paul, how could he ever get his line in under that canvas, and secure any of our grub?" he protested.

"It happened unfortunately that he didn't have to. I can show you marks here on the ground that plainly outline one of our fine hams," said Paul, pointing to where he had been so closely examining the ground.

"A ham! Oh! my, oh! me, don't tell me that!" cried Bobolink, making a gesture of despair; "for we're half through the other one, and it was so good. How could the villain ever clap hands on our prize; tell me that, won't you Paul?"

"I know, all right," said Wallace in disgust, "and I guess it was my fault too. I remember suggesting that it would be a good idea to hang the second ham from the pole William drove into the face of this little cliff about seven feet up; and they did it too, the worse luck!"

"Yes," remarked Paul, drily, "and it caught the eye of this fellow, whoever he was. The temptation must have been too strong for him. Perhaps he enjoys a joke. Anyhow, he got it, after some little use of his fishline. We're out a ham, that's plain, fellows."

"Think of snapping a porker's hind leg off a pole," groaned Bobolink, "and playing it, inch by inch, up here; while our gay guards walked back and forth on post, as innocent as the babes in the woods. It gets me, all right!"

None of the Banner Boy Scouts looked very happy. Like many other things, a ham is never so much appreciated as when it has disappeared.

"Say, you don't think, now, it could have been one of that Slavin bunch, do you?" demanded Bobolink, presently; "because I happen to know Scissors Dempsey is mighty fond of pork, every way you can fix it."

"I've thought of that," said Paul, without hesitation; "but you can see the foot is an extra long one. No boy's shoe ever made that. And it's had a home-made patch on it, too. No, some man has been here, and made way with our ham."

"Oh! won't it be bad for him if ever we meet the wretch!" threatened Bobolink. "Just you see what the fellows say, when they know. Only enough ham for one more meal! That's what I call tough."

There was a howl indeed, when the other campers learned what had happened. All sorts of theories were advanced, and Paul laughed at some of these.

"That old humpback rattlesnake oil man must have come to life again, just like Rip Van Winkle," declared Nuthin, who seemed to have heard the story somewhere; "and could you blame him for wanting ham, after sniffing the delicious smells that went up from this camp last night, while William was busy?"

William thereupon made his lowest bow, with his hand on his heart.

"Oh! thank you!" he exclaimed, simpering; "this is too, too sudden; and I've really left the speech I prepared, at home."

But while the rest were both growling and making fun over the secret visit of the unknown, Paul noticed that there was one in the party who said never a word.

That was Joe Clausin.

He listened to everything, without comment; but there was a puzzled look on his face, as though he could not quite understand certain facts.

Paul realized that he was thinking about the man who looked like the party he knew; but who was supposed to be at the other side of the world just then. Joe believed it might have been this person who stole the ham; and yet something seemed to upset such a theory. Possibly the mention of that extra long foot, and the patched shoe, hardly agreed with his ideas.

And while they were standing around, still engaged in disputing and advancing new theories, some one gave a shout.

"I saw a man on a wheel just flash past that open spot back along the trail!" he cried; and immediately every eye was focussed on the spot indicated; for coming at just such a moment the news electrified the scouts.



CHAPTER XXV

PAUL LAYS DOWN HIS BURDEN

"There! I just caught a squint of him, back of the trees!" whooped William.

"And he's coming lickety-split, to beat the band, too. Oh! I hope it isn't a messenger from Stanhope to bring us any bad news!" cried Tom Betts; who had left a sick mother when he came on the trip, and whose conscience, perhaps, caused him to have a sudden fear.

More than one pair of cheeks lost some of their color, in that quick spasm of alarm, following this suggestion on the part of Tom.

"Listen, fellows; he's tooting his auto horn like fun! It gives me a scare for keeps!" ejaculated Philip Towne.

But Paul laughed aloud.

"Don't get frightened, fellows," he exclaimed, "I sure ought to know the sound of that old siren. That's my wheel; and who do you think's on it but our good scoutmaster, Mr. Gordon!"

"Hurrah!" came from a dozen pairs of lips, as the boys swung their hats aloft.

And this was the exciting picture that met the eyes of the scoutmaster when he burst into view around a bend, and sighted the camp on the lake shore.

Mr. Gordon was a very bright young fellow, with considerable experience in training boys. He had a fair grasp of the grand possibilities of this Boy Scouts' movement, and never lost an opportunity to pick up additional information. Nor did he disdain to ask some of his scouts concerning matters they had studied, but along which lines he did not happen to be well informed.

There was a grand "pow-wow," as William called it, after he came. He had to hear all that had happened since his leaving Stanhope on that unfortunate business trip. The adventures at the church on both nights were recounted by those who had taken part; and it was plain that the story lost none of its comical features in the telling.

After that he heard about the grand march, the meeting with the circus, and what the scouts had done to clear up their record for the day. Then came the various things that had occurred; until at last the dismal truth about the missing ham made Mr. Gordon laugh heartily.

"How did you manage with the Indian sign letters I left with you, sir?" Paul asked, when he found a chance.

"Pretty well," replied the scoutmaster; "though once or twice your meaning was not quite clear. I had to use a lot of commonsense to understand whether a boy was pulled from the river, and brought around all right; or if a poor fellow had been taken with the colic, and you used a stomach pump on him. But then, as I said, my good sense told me the former must have been the case. Who was it, and is he all right again?"

"I'm the victim," declared Tom Betts, promptly; "and I guess the whole show would have been broke up if Paul here hadn't yanked me out like he did."

Mr. Gordon turned a look of sincere affection on Paul. He had studied the boy often, and always found something new to admire about him. Still, he knew it was not always wise to praise a lad to his face; and so he only squeezed Paul's hand.

Paul was a happy fellow just then. It seemed to him that the load of responsibility had slipped from his shoulders like magic with the coming of Mr. Gordon. Now they could undertake all manner of interesting stunts; and each day would be taken up with dozens of events in which they wished to shine.

Presently the fishermen made their appearance. A shout went up at sight of the glorious strings of fine trout they carried. Although they had heard the cheers of their mates, and understood that Mr. Gordon must have arrived, really they did not have the heart to break away, while the fish were feeding so savagely.

"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest!" cried Bobolink; "good-bye ham, and how d'ye do Mr. Trout. I really don't know which I like best. When I'm eating trout my thoughts go out to ham; and when I'm sitting down to a rasher of bacon I do long so for a mess of trout. But they're all to the good, fellows. Do it some more, will you?"

And when William and the other cooks served the fish at noon the boys were loud in their praises. Some had suggestions to offer about the ways of cooking them; but it was noticed that half the inmates of the camp busied themselves immediately after lunch in hunting fishing tackle; and the prospect for peace among the finny tribes in that lake was small.

There was no little rivalry between the trio of cooks. Usually this took the form of good-natured chaffing, and trying new dishes, in order to arouse the envy of other patrols.

Bobolink always hung around to hear these discussions; but William made a great mistake when, thinking to bolster up his cause at one time, he demanded to know what the member of the Red Fox Patrol thought about it.

"Huh!" grunted the wise Bobolink, "I'll tell you, if you promise not to hold it against me, and give me the poorest grub in the bunch for spite."

"All right, go on," said William slowly, as though he already began to doubt the wisdom of asking his comrade's opinion; "I don't know as you c'n settle this important question at all; but I promise not to hold anything against you. Give us a straight yarn, now, Bobolink, hear!"

"Well," said Bobolink, with a grin, "when I hear you learned cooks disputing about how to do this, and that, I just have to think about the blind men and the elephant, you see."

"What about 'em?" demanded Nat Smith, who belonged to the third patrol, and had carried his mother's big cook book along into camp, thinking to surprise his rivals by the vast extent of his knowledge concerning cookery terms.

"Oh! shucks, d'ye mean to say you never heard that story?" said Bobolink. "Well, a lot of blind men in the Far East disputed about what an elephant looked like, though nary one had ever seen the critter. So they went, one at a time, to find out. Now what d'ye think happened?"

"How under the sun do we know? Get along with the yarn!" exclaimed William.

"Each feller came back with a different story," went on Bobolink gravely; "the one that grabbed the tail of the elephant vowed the wonderful animal was mighty like a rope. Another says a snake, because, you see, he got hold of the swinging trunk. A third vows the elephant was like a wall, just because he slammed up against his side. And a fourth hugged his leg, and was ready to take his affidavy the famous beast was made just like a tree! Get the idea, boys?"

Apparently they did, for a minute later Bobolink was seen flying for his life through the woods, with three mad cooks in full pursuit, shaking their fists after him, and threatening all sorts of vengeance.

Paul and Mr. Gordon concluded to push out from shore on the big raft, and try the fishing in that style. Fortunately there was little air stirring, so that the clumsy contrivance could be readily managed.

Mr. Gordon was not an expert fisherman; while Paul had had considerable experience in the art during his several Summers in Maine. He cast his flies with such skill that the scoutmaster expressed admiration, and took lessons in sending out the oiled silk line, so that the imitation flies dropped on the water softly.