right along,” urged Lub, a little suspicious when the “Greeks came bearing gifts,” though his eyes did twinkle with gratification at hearing the warm praise, because time had been when the same fat boy was very green in connection with camp cookery, and afforded his chums many a hearty laugh over his blunders.

“Honest to goodness I mean every word of it, and more too, Lub!” affirmed X-Ray.

“I never tasted a better cup of coffee,” declared Ethan; “and these beans are warmed up to beat the band; while the bacon is as crisp and brown as—well, as I could fry it myself, and that’s the highest praise anybody would want to have handed out to them, I guess.”

There was enough and to spare, for after the last appetite had been appeased Lub declared that it was a shame to leave that small portion, so he would have to put it away himself, which he accordingly did, though they warned him he was in danger of bursting from over feeding.

Afterwards they made themselves comfortable, each with his warm blanket about his shoulders, and facing the fire. A couple of logs rolled up near the blaze afforded them seats, and for at least two hours they continued to chat on every sort of subject.

Their home life was often touched upon, as well as previous outings in which they had taken part. Ethan even told “The” McNab what wonderful success he had had in his root-gathering and fur-trapping. On hearing how a single black fox skin had netted him three hundred dollars the Scotch farmer said he did not doubt it as he knew a man who had received three times that sum for an especially fine pelt.

“As for meself,” he added, “it’s verra curious but I never even saw a black fox in all me trapping experience. They do be verra rare, they tell me. I have a good woman and three bairn at home, and a thousand dollars would be a muckle fortune for us, but I dinna expect sich luck to come my way. Ye are verra fortunate I must say, Ethan, lad.”

Of course Lub had to titter at that, when X-Ray gave him a kick on the sly, as if to warn him to behave himself, so that their great secret might not be endangered by Ethan having his suspicions aroused.

Presently Lub began to yawn and stretch at a great rate. That might be taken for a sign that he was becoming sleepy, and wanted to turn in. They had their several places portioned off under the temporary shelter, so that if Lub chose he could crawl in when he pleased.

He was evidently of a mind to do so, and had even started to rise to his feet, when the others heard him give vent to an exclamation.

“Didn’t that logger say Baylay owned several dogs, fellows?” he demanded.

“Why yes, he did,” replied X-Ray, quickly; “but what makes you ask such a thing as that, Lub?”

“Because I reckon then he must be somewhere around here right now, for there’s a strange animal nosing about in the shadows over where I threw what scraps were left of our supper!”

At that every one looked. Sure enough they could see a moving figure, that did look like a pretty good-sized dog.

Phil, however, uttered a low word of caution.

“Sit tight, everybody!” he hissed, “until I reach out and take hold of my gun!”

“But, Phil, go slow if that’s one of the poacher’s dogs!” warned Lub in alarm.

“Dog nothing!” came from Phil as he took up his gun; “that’s a gray wolf I tell you!”

CHAPTER III—FISHING THROUGH THE ICE WITH TIP-UPS

No one moved after that save Phil himself, though Lub breathed very hard, as if the information had given him the “heart-jump,” he often spoke about.

Phil knew he had made no mistake when he pronounced the prowling animal a bold timber wolf; though he would have had some difficulty in believing it if some one else had told about one of those animals daring to venture so close to a camp where a number of hunters were sitting about a fire.

He judged that the beast must be unusually hungry, or else not in fear of mankind, from some reason or other.

“Whoo! see his green-yellow eyes, will you?” whispered Lub.

“Put the bullet square between ’em, Phil!” advised Ethan, secretly wishing it had been his rifle that was within easy reach at the time.

Hardly had he spoken than there came the report. A jet of flame spurted from the end of the leveled gun; there was one sharp yelp and that was all.

“You got him, Phil!” shouted X-Ray Tyson, always the first to see things that happened.

“Hold on, don’t rush over there till you get your guns!” advised Phil. “If the wolves are that brash up here, there may be more of the lot.”

McNab had thrown some small stuff on the fire so that the flames shot up, and in this way illuminated the vicinity. They could see a dusky figure sprawled out where the animal had been crouching and glaring at them with his terrible wolfish eyes.

So when Ethan and X-Ray had secured their rifles, with Phil they advanced to the spot where the victim of the shot had fallen. Phil was a trifle concerned himself, and anxious to make certain. If after all it turned out that he had shot a cur dog belonging to that terrible poacher and one-time logger Baylay, it was going to make them a tremendous amount of trouble.

He was speedily convinced, however, that there could be no doubt; and was also rejoiced to hear McNab declare:

“A fearsome sicht I ken, lads, and the largest wolf I ever saw in all my days in the bush. It was a braw shot ye made, Phil; it goed close between the eyes, and finished the beastie for a’. I tauld ye there was game worth the hunting up this way; if only ye may not have the misfortune to run across yon de’il o’ a Baylay and get his ill-will.”

They stretched the defunct wolf out, and Lub stared at his size, as well as his ferocious appearance, shuddering as he fancied what a time any one would have if attacked by a pack of such monsters.

“I expect I’ll let you fellows do most of the prowling while we’re up here,” he remarked, with the air of one who knew when he was well off. “I never did care very much for that sort, you know; and there will be plenty of things to employ my time around the camp, I guess.”

“Yes,” Phil told him with a smile, for he knew that Lub’s heart was not the most valiant in the world, “and the first chance we get to-morrow I mean to show you how to fish through the ice out there.”

“Oh! I’ve often read of that, Phil, and wished I could have a whack at it,” the fat chum exclaimed, rapturously; “please tell me how it’s done, won’t you? They have what they call tip-ups, I believe, that let them know every time a pickerel takes a bait.”

“It’s all as easy as falling off a log,” Phil went on to say. “You cut half a dozen holes in the ice some little distance apart. Then you drop your baited hook down, and fix a little contraption across the hole, connecting the line with the same. The idea is that when you get a fish his struggles tilts a stick, and lets you know about it. Sometimes one man ’tends dozens of holes, running this way and that as he sees he has a catch, to take the fish off, and rebait the hook.”

“Are all the tip-ups alike, Phil?” asked the deeply interested Lub.

“Not by any means, although they have the same common idea of notifying the fisherman that he has made a catch,” the other continued. “Some I have seen consist of a stick, with a cord and a red piece of cloth; when the fish is caught he drags on the extra cord, and this causes the flag to appear at the top of the stick set upright in the ice. That is a good way, though it means considerable labor fixing your poles.”

“Tell us the easiest way, then,” said Lub, who did not care for too much work, because, as