before in all my life?”

“Well,” remarked Thad, grimly, “that’s the time you should have remembered that a scout must always be prepared to think for himself, and observe too. I heard something of what was said as I stood here, watching. You had guessed easily enough that these were the tools with which bank burglars break into safes. And since you read the papers, Step Hen, you must surely know that they often use dynamite to burst open the lock of a safe. You never stopped to think, that’s the trouble. All you had to do would be to say to yourself, ‘now, what would thieves be likely to have this for, because it must enter into their business?’ and the chances were ten to one you’d have guessed it, right away. Think twice after this, Step Hen, before you do a rash thing like that.”

The scoutmaster spoke more sternly than was his wont when dealing with those who were under his charge; because he had been horrified and thrilled when he realized the terrible danger that hovered over them all, should Step Hen manage to give the innocent looking stick a toss into the fire, before he could leap alongside, and stay his arm.

Perhaps the dynamite might not have exploded before he could with a frantic effort dislodge it from the burning brands; but the chances of its going off were legion, and he could never afterwards think of the incident without a shudder.

“I’ll try and remember, Thad,” said Step Hen, meekly, for he was shivering now, because of the narrow escape he and his chums had had.

Thad, on his part, carefully placed the dangerous explosive in the crotch of a tree near by, where it could do no harm.

“We’d better bury it in the morning, to get rid of it,” he observed, as he sat down to examine the odd looking assortment of little tools, for himself.

The others gathered around, curious to hear what Thad’s opinion might be; for they were used to setting considerable store by his decisions on any subject.

“How d’ye s’pose now, Thad,” remarked Giraffe, to draw the other out, “these fellers just came to stop over here, in the identical place we chose for a camp? That what’s getting me.”

“Oh that’s easy,” replied the other, with a little laugh. “We seemed to strike this place by accident; but I reckon that if you asked Eli or Jim here about it, they’d be apt to tell you it’s an old camping spot. How about it, men?”

“Be’n here often with parties,” replied the older guide, promptly. “Seen hundreds o’ fine trout jerked outen thet pool over there.”

“Me tew,” declared Jim, grinning broadly at finding how smart this boy seemed to be.

“There you are, Giraffe,” Thad went on to say, turning once more to the scout. “Perhaps, as somebody said only a little while back, this leader of the sprinting yeggmen has himself been camping here one or more times in the past, and he knows the trails of the woods around here. Why, there’s a pretty good chance that Mr. Carson himself stopped here over night, something like a week or less ago.”

“But he didn’t find that bag, nor his guides either,” remarked Step Hen, with a little show of pride; as though he believed he ought to at least have a small amount of credit for bringing the thing to light.

“For a good reason,” Thad went on; “because it wasn’t in the bushes when Mr. Carson came along this way.”

“You think, then, that the fellers who owned these things must have been here after Mr. Carson was, do you, Thad?” Davy Jones asked.

“I’ve a good notion that way,” the scoutmaster replied; “and we’re going to prove it, presently. There are lots of ways to do that, you’ll find; and if Allan and I happen to fall down, why, we’ll call on Sebattis here to show us. Allan tells me that an Indian can read signs just like you would print, Davy.”

“Like to see him try it, then,” muttered the scout, casting a side glance toward the silent Penobscot brave, who was sitting there watching them, and never so much as opening his mouth, or betraying any particular interest, though he must have heard every word that had been spoken thus far.

“After we’ve had a hack at it, we may,” Thad admitted. “You know Allan is up to some of these things, and we ought to give him a show before calling in outside talent; isn’t that so, boys?”

“Sure it is,” cried Bumpus; “and it’s my private opinion, publicly expressed, that our comrade can deliver the goods too. Give Allan a square deal. Let him ‘mosey’ around, and say what he thinks. Then we’ll ask the guides to prove it. That’s the ticket, fellers. An’ he can’t begin any too soon to satisfy my bump of curiosity. They do say at my house I’m a reg’lar old woman for wantin’ to know; and I must acknowledge the corn all right. Won’t you get busy, Allan, and relieve a sufferin’ public?”

Thus appealed to, the Maine boy could not resist. “Of course I’m not saying I can tell you all that either of these guides might—not to mention Sebattis here,” he remarked, “but I’ll do the best I can.”

“Reckon that’s about nigh all anybody can do,” observed Giraffe, also getting to his feet; for he was more or less interested in any demonstration of woodcraft that applied to Boy Scout knowledge.

“Of course I know what the footprint of every one of us looks like, even to our guides,” began Allan; “because I’ve made it my business to keep my eyes around. And the first thing I’m going to do is to find out if there is any track here different from ours. If I find that, I’ll be pretty sure it was made by others who camped here within the last night or two.”

“But why do you say that?” demanded Bumpus, eagerly. “What if Mr. Carson did stop here five, six or even seven nights ago; you might run on his track, you know.”

“If I did, I’d know it,” replied Allan; “not that I’ve even set eyes on the print of his hunting shoe or boot, if he wears such, instead of moccasins; but stop and remember, Bumpus we had a heavy rain day before yesterday that must have passed over this section as well as where we struck it. After that it turned cold.”

“Oh! I forgot all about that,” admitted the other scout, looking foolish. “Why, of course, that same rain would have washed out the footprints of anybody who had camped here as long ago as four or five nights. That’s right Allan.”

“If it didn’t exactly wash the footprints out, it would make them look faint; and a trailer would soon know they were old. Now let me take a turn around, and do the rest of you sit quiet here, till I call out that I’ve found something.”

He took a blazing brand from the fire, and began to move around the outskirts of the camp, beyond the tents and the glow of the fire.

“Why does he go so far away?” asked Bumpus.

“Because we’ve been walking around here so much that all chance of making any discovery would be lost,” replied Thad; “and out there he may stand a show. There, I can see him stoop down lower, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d hit a footprint right away.”

The others all craned their necks in order to see what Allan was doing; and of course Giraffe had them left far in the lurch when it came to this, on account of his being gifted by a bountiful Nature with such an exceedingly long ostrich like appendage below his head.

“Yes, he’s sure struck something,” Giraffe declared, as though anxious to show what an advantage it was sometimes to be the possessor of a neck that was longer than any of the others.

“There, he’s beckoning to us to