Davy was feeling particularly frisky; and resting his hands, one upon either gunwale of the canoe, close to the bow, where he had his position for the afternoon, he threw himself up, with his heels in the air, cracking these together sharply.

“How’s that, fellows?” he demanded. “Don’t you call that a pretty good poise? Why, I guess I could do it even if we were shooting the rapids. Hey, Bumpus, that’s one on you, all right,” and the heels cracked together suggestively.

“Mebbe you think I ain’t got the nerve to try that cute little dodge,” remarked the fat boy, aggressively. “I’ve done a heap of things you thought I couldn’t. Now, you just wait and see your Dutch uncle show you a stunt worth two of that.”

“Careful, Bumpus, the water’s deep right here!” called out Thad, whose back happened to be turned toward the other canoe just then, as he was changing some of the stuff, so as to give his legs more room when he took the paddle.

“And likewise cold!” added Giraffe, who was grinning with anticipation of the fun that was coming.

But Bumpus was in deadly earnest. He gripped the sides of his canoe, just as he had seen Davy do; and then, giving a flirt into the air, started to extend his dumpy lower limbs upward.

But alas! Bumpus did not know how to stop going, once he got started. The consequence was, that instead of remaining at an exact perpendicular, his body kept on turning until he could no longer maintain his desperate grip on the narrow gunwales of the canvas canoe. And as a shout broke out from several of the scouts, poor Bumpus went over the bow into the water; where he made a splash that must have dreadfully alarmed every speckled trout that had not yet taken up its winter quarters.

CHAPTER II.
THE TROUBLES OF BUMPUS.

With the splash the three guides looked up from their task at the fire, and then turned toward each other with grins. These boys were a lively lot, and kept things moving all the time; but already had the guides come to like them more than a little. But if one of the lads chose to go in swimming with his clothes on, of course it was none of their business. So they did not run to the rescue.

“Wow! gimme a hand, somebody!” spluttered poor Bumpus, as his head came up, and he sent out a little Niagara of water that he had started to swallow in his excitement.

Bumpus could swim, and there was not the least danger of his drowning; so none of the other boys manifested a frantic desire to help him. Indeed, Giraffe even showed himself heartless enough to give vent to a hearty laugh; while Davy Jones immediately called out:

“Bumpus, you never said a truer word in your whole life; that was a stunt worth two of mine. When it comes to doing real things, with the splash to ’em, I’m a back number compared with you. Oh! you Bumpus!”

Seeing that no one was going to do more than extend a paddle toward him, the indignant fat boy started to paddle ashore; where he crawled out of the water, looking like a half drowned rat, as Step Hen took occasion to tell him.

But as the fire was out, and the air rather chilly, although in the middle of a glorious fall day, wise Thad knew that the boys stood a chance of getting cold unless he quickly changed his clothes.

“Here, Giraffe, overhaul his clothes bag, and get out his extra duds,” the scoutmaster remarked, in a tone of authority, which the elongated boy understood permitted of no nonsense; so he condescended to act as valet for the unfortunate Bumpus, selecting the garments he was to wear, and offering some of his own in case the other did not have a complete assortment.

As Giraffe was as tall and skinny as Bumpus was fat and rotund, it would have been an utter impossibility for the latter to have worn anything belonging to his fellow voyager, even had he needed assistance.

Fortunately he had plenty for a complete change, and a sweater which Thad insisted he should draw on over the shirt, gave promise of preventing any serious result from the ducking.

“Wasted just twenty minutes, all on account of Bumpus’s vaulting ambition,” remarked Step Hen, when they were finally ready to make a fresh start.

“Vaulting ambition is good,” observed Davy Jones, with a wink at Allan, who sat near him in the second canoe. “Now, d’ye know, I’ve tried that stunt many a time, but I never yet was able to get one-half the fun out of it that Bumpus did the first shot. No use talking, he can see me, and go one better. I’ll have to take in my sign, and retire from business, boys.”

“Anyway,” grunted the object of all this side talk, and there was a twinkle in his eye as he looked at Davy; “I made the biggest splash you ever heard; all of you have just got to admit that.”

“You certainly did, Bumpus,” said Thad; “but I’d advise you to be a little more careful after this how you try to copy Davy Jones. To tell the honest truth, though I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Bumpus, but, you see, you’re hardly built for doing most of the things he shows off in. If it was Giraffee here, instead, he might have a look-in.”

“But Giraffe, he’s just a little too smart to get caught trying; he cut his eye teeth some time ago;” remarked that individual. “But I give you all warning that from now on I am going to try some of those different ways of making fires without using a single match. I’ve got a burning glass along; then there’s my fine flint and steel, like our forefathers owned in the good old pioneer days; and last but not least, I’d just bent on using a bow and a stick in the manner they say the South Sea islanders do. You wait and see me show you something.”

Thad moved a little uneasily at hearing this. Truth to tell, he had had considerable trouble with the tall scout in times past, on account of this very failing, which was once more coming to the surface.

Giraffe seemed to be a regular fire worshipper. It was a subject that went away ahead of all others in his mind. Indeed, there were some of his mates who declared that the long-legged scout had really joined the patrol in order to find chances to indulge in his favorite pursuit, which was to see the flames creep upward, snapping and glowing. Giraffe, having started a blaze, would sit there and gaze into the heart of the fire, just as though he could discover the most wonderful things there.

As a rule, he occupied much of his spare time when in camp whittling; and if asked what he was doing, would reply that possibly they might want to start a fresh fire later on, and he was getting the tinder ready.

His folks had had more or less trouble with him at home on this same account; as on three separate occasions the fire department had been called on a run to save the Stedham home, when the boy, in pursuing his investigations, had endangered it.

And now, it seemed that his latest fad was to try every kind of known method for bringing about a flame without the use of a match. No wonder Thad felt uneasy. He knew about the stringent laws of Maine with regard to setting the woods afire; and with such a reckless lad loose among the pines it would be necessary for some one to keep control over Giraffe pretty much all the time.

The afternoon began to wane as they pushed on up the current of the river. The guides had informed the boys that there was still a short time when trout could be legally taken, as the fishing season overlapped the hunting term a week or two. And hence a couple of jointed rods had been brought along, with the idea of making use of them. A platter of deliciously