our necks in the stream that grew in a night, for the little island was all under water. No more of that sort of thing for this chicken, thank you.”

They talked until all of them began to grow sleepy. Then the horse was looked after for the last time, and found to be lying down, well satisfied with the feed of oats and sweet grass that had made up his supper.

Inside the tent there was plenty of room, for the three intending sleepers. Apparently Mr. Whitlatch, the photographer, carried quite a lot of paraphernalia with him when going off on his periodical excursions, taking pictures of Nature as found in the vicinity of Chester; and meant to have an abundance of room in which to keep his camera and other traps safe from the heavy rainfalls that frequently deluged that section of country.

Making themselves comfortable, the three boys tried to compose themselves for the sleep they needed so much, for very likely none of them had rested soundly on the last night under the family 20 rooftree, on account of nervous anticipations of the fun in store for them.

It turned out a difficult thing to do. Going to sleep away from the surroundings with which they were familiar excited them so much that even though they closed their eyes to shut out the fitful flashes of the fire burning just outside they could not control their thoughts.

Then again at times sounds that were not at all familiar came to their ears. As a rule they understood that these were made by the small fur-bearing animals inhabiting the wooded region, and which must have been thrown into an unusual state of excitement by their arrival on the scene.

The hours passed.

In due time all of the campers managed to get asleep, though, if they awakened during the night, it must have given them a queer feeling to realize that they were no longer surrounded by the familiar walls of their rooms at home, but had only a thin canvas covering between themselves and the star-studded heavens above.

Morning came.

The whinny of old Moses acted as reveille to arouse the trio inside the tent; possibly the animal was accustomed to having his breakfast at peep of day, and wanted to know why it was not forthcoming now.

First Toby, then Jack, and finally Steve came crawling forth, clad in their warm pajamas. They stretched, and went through certain gymnastic 21 feats calculated to limber up their cramped muscles. Then, as the fresh morning air began to make Toby in particular shiver, he plunged inside again to commence dressing.

“It really isn’t because I’m so ferocious for my breakfast, boys,” he hastened to explain, when the others followed him under the shelter; “but that air is pretty nippy, seems to me, and I don’t like too much of it when minus my clothes. Steve, how about you trying your hand at those bully flapjacks you’ve been boasting of being able to make ever since this camping trip was first planned?”

“Oh! I’m game, if you both say the word,” affirmed the other. “That’s why I just insisted on fetching that self-raising pancake flour along. What would a camp be like without an occasional mess of flapjacks?”

Later on, while Steve was making ready to carry out his job, Toby sought Jack, who was doing something inside the tent.

“Say, do you know, Jack,” he went on to remark, “I woke up some time in the night and couldn’t just make up my mind what it was roused me. Seemed like a clap of distant thunder; but when I peeped out under the canvas the stars were shining to beat the band. Did you happen to hear it too, Jack?”

“Just what I did, Toby,” returned the other, with a smile, “and as you say, it did sound like far-away thunder. I saw you peeking out, but 22 didn’t say anything, for old Steve was sleeping fine, and I didn’t want to wake him up. After you went off again I crept outside for an observation. It was around midnight then.”

“Course you could tell by the stars,” suggested Toby, eagerly. “I saw you taking their positions about the time we crept in for a snooze. I must learn how to tell the hour of the night by the heavens before we finish this camping trip. It must be a great stunt, I should think, Jack.”

“As easy as falling off a log, once you begin to notice the heavenly bodies, and their relations to each other,” Jack told him. “I’ll take pleasure in putting you on the right track any time you see fit.”

“But about that sound, could it have been a blast of any sort, Jack?”

“That’s hard to say,” the other replied, looking thoughtful, Toby saw. “It may be they are doing some quarrying miles away from here; or else some railroad is being cut through the hills.”

“But even if that’s so, Jack, why should any one want to set off a blast in the middle of the night, tell me?”

“I give it up, Toby. Possibly before we leave this region we may have found out an answer to your question. Forget that you heard anything queer, that’s all. We expect to scour this whole region up here, and if anything like that is going on, as likely as not we’ll learn all about it.”

Toby looked strangely at his companion as 23 though a suspicion may have arisen in his mind to the effect that perhaps this queer sound had something to do with the mission that Jack had undertaken in coming to the Pontico Hill country; but Toby had the good sense not to press the matter any further, though his boyish curiosity had undoubtedly been exercised.

When breakfast was ready, they made themselves as comfortable as the conditions allowed. Already there was a vast improvement over the arrangements of the preceding night. Two short logs had been rolled up so as to serve as seats while they discussed their meals. This was much nicer than squatting on the ground in attitudes that severely tried the muscles of their bodies. Toby promised to make a rude but serviceable camp table upon which their meals might be served. And a host of other things were considered by means of which their stay in the woods might be made much more comfortable.

They talked of numerous things besides those that concerned the present outing. Football came in for a fair share of their attention, because the fever to excel in sports had already seized hold of these Chester boys, and in the fall they hoped to put a sturdy eleven in the field that would be a credit to the town.

Besides this other sports were mentioned, especially those having an intimate connection with the season of snow and ice. Lake Constance offered a fruitful field for iceboating; and there 24 could hardly be a finer stream than the crooked Paradise River when it came to skating distances during a Saturday, or in the Christmas holidays.

So the time passed. They had actually cleaned out the coffeepot and both fryingpans of their contents, but at least no one could ever complain of getting up hungry in that camp–not while Steve had anything to do with the cooking. His flapjacks had turned out to be a big success, and Toby in particular was loud in praise of them; though by the way he winked at Jack when declaring them the best he had ever devoured, barring none, it was plainly evident that he was saying this partly in the hopes that the gratified Steve would repeat the dose frequently.

“This will never do,” said Jack, finally; “we have too much on hand this morning to be loafing here. First we’ll get the dishes out of the way, and then arrange programme for the work. By noon I expect to have things more ship-shape.”

The others were eager to assist, and presently every one had his hands full. The big tent was raised in better shape than could be done in their hurry of the preceding evening. Then all their stock was gone over, some of it