you may think you are."

"I—I didn't do anything."

"No, you didn't do anything. You merely put some cane on the fire so it would explode and give us a scare. You nearly burned up the outfit."

"Stacy, did you do this?" demanded the Professor sternly.

"I—I guess I did."

"Why?"

"Well, you see, I was awakened by those villainous mosquitoes, so I got up, went outside, and put some wood on the fire—that's all I did."

"Well, what then?" urged the Professor.

"Then the whole business went off."

"He did not know the cane would explode," spoke up the guide, who had been tugging at his moustache while listening and regarding Stacy narrowly.

"No, no, that's right; I didn't know. How should I know that the stuff was loaded? Is this country full of stuff like that that will blow up if you look crosswise at it?"

"The cane always will explode when subjected to sufficient heat," replied the guide.

"First time I ever knew that trees would blow up. I—I guess this isn't much of a place to go around with matches in your pocket. Wha—what's that?" stammered the fat boy in a scared tone.

"Waugh, waugh, waugh."

The other boys now took heed. They too were wondering what the strange new sound might mean, and glanced apprehensively at Billy Lilly for the answer. The guide was still tugging at his moustache, grinning behind his hand.

"Waugh, waugh, waugh, waugh!"

This time the sound seemed nearer. The dogs were growling, some straining at their leashes, a dark ridge showing along the back of each.

"The dogs have their rough up. Something is around here. I am going to find out what it is for myself," declared Tad Butler, slipping on his boots and snatching up a rifle.

"Where are you going?" asked the guide.

"I am going to investigate, that's all. You may know what that noise is, but I don't. It may be a bear for all we know."

Tad slipped out back of the tent. There followed a sharp flash, and a crash, then a series of wild "waugh, waugh, waugh, waughs," a great scurrying and floundering in the bushes.

"Ha, ha! Missed him, didn't you?" shouted the guide.

"I did not," answered the Pony Rider Boy calmly. Then the listeners heard Tad utter a groan of disgust. Billy Lilly slapped his thighs and laughed loudly.

"That's a good joke on the old scout, eh? That's certainly a good one. Well, what did you get?"

Tad walked in and shoved his gun into his tent.

"You knew what it was all the time, didn't you, Mr. Lilly?"

"Surely I knew. You didn't think I had been in these brakes all these years without knowing all about them, did you?"

"Wha—what did you shoot, Tad?" stammered Stacy.

"What did I shoot? Gentlemen, I shot a pig," answered Butler in a tone of disgust. "Pork! I am a rank tenderfoot. Stacy, please kick me."

"I—I can't. I'm in my stocking feet. Oh, I wish I had my boots on. I'll never get another opportunity like this," wailed the fat boy in mock sorrow.

This raised another laugh. Lilly forgot to tug at his tawny moustache and straightening back against a tree opened his mouth and uttered a loud "Haw, haw, haw."

"You laugh like a burro I knew down in New Mexico," observed Stacy, eyeing the guide narrowly, ready to run in case Lilly should take exception to his remark.

"Now, if you boys want any sleep, suppose we turn in again," suggested Lilly.

"I am going to feed the campfire first," answered Tad. "I don't propose to leave that to Master Stacy. Next time he will blow up the outfit."

"No, I reckon we had better set a watch over him. He's worse'n the mosquitoes," declared Billy.