Hardly had they done so than once again they heard a repetition of those warning growls. Jack shrugged his shoulders and laughed drily.

"We hear you, old lady with the claws!" he called out, "and we understand that you are still on the job. It looks like she didn't mean to lose sight of two such suspicious appearing chaps as we seem to be. Well, our cake is dough, and we might as well acknowledge ourselves beaten."

"Oh! why didn't we fetch our gun along, Jack?" sighed Steve, looking angrily toward the spot from whence the warning snarls had volleyed at them. "I'd give every cent in my savings bank for the chance to knock that critter over. What use are pesky wildcats anyway? They live on game birds and rabbits most always. If I had my way I'd clean out the whole bunch of them, kits as well as mother cats."

"Well, we can't do anything along that line this trip," Jack told him. "So say what you've got on your mind to the lady, and let's clear out. These woods belong to her this afternoon, and we've got no business here."

"I don't mean to waste any more of my precious breath on the silly beast," grumbled Steve, as he turned his back toward the spot where the unseen enemy lay concealed in the scrub.

Jack headed toward the open space along which they had formerly been walking. He had been wise enough to keep this in mind when trying to circumvent the obstinate feline enemy that refused to let them pass. Once they found their trail, and it would be an easy matter to follow it toward camp.

They had lingered longer than either of them seemed aware. This fact was presently brought to their attention by the growing gloom of the woods around them.

"Why, Jack, the sun has gone down, I do believe!" exclaimed Steve, suddenly.

"No, it isn't time for it to set yet," his chum advised him. "We can't make sure of it, but I wouldn't be surprised if a bank of heavy clouds has risen in the west, and hidden the sun behind it. One thing certain, we're going to have the fun of tramping several miles through a dark woods."

"Well, so long as there are no rattlesnakes around this section of country, that won't make much difference with me," Steve assured him. "Yes, and I might add I hope that mother cat is the only specimen of her race up here, too. It would be tough on us to run across another holdup, so we'd be between two fires."

It grew constantly darker. Undoubtedly Jack must be right about the heavens having clouded over in the west. Steve found another source for worry. This time it did not partake of the nature of animal foes.

"Say, wouldn't it be a joke on us now, Jack, if a regular old drencher came on, and soaked us to the skin? I'm listening in expectation of hearing the mutter of thunder in the distance. After all, this wonderful day seems bent on bringing us face to face with a number of queer happenings. There, was that a growl of thunder then, or could it be another of those queer blasts we heard before?"

"Neither, I reckon, Steve. I think it was only the wind rising, and making a moaning sound among some treetops. I've heard it call out in a way to make you think some poor fellow had been caught under a falling tree, and was being slowly crushed to death. Yes, there it goes again, you notice."

"But doesn't it sound spooky, though?" ventured Steve, looking hastily over his right shoulder for luck. "Does that spell rain to you, Jack?"

"I hardly like to say, but it wouldn't surprise me if we did have a spell of it before morning," the other went on.

"I only hope then it'll have the decency to hold off till we're safe back in camp again," Steve ventured. "That tent is guaranteed to shed water in the hardest downpour. Mr. Whitlatch, the town photographer, has tested it many times and promised that it would not leak a drop; only you've got to keep from touching it when wet with your fingers, because that's a bad thing to do, and may start a drip."

Both boys found themselves bending over more than at any previous time during the return journey. This was all on account of the gathering darkness, for with the passage of every minute the task of seeing their tracks was becoming more difficult.

"This thing is getting pretty tough," wheezed Steve, finally. "I've got fairly decent eyes, but I own up they're going back on me pretty fast trying to pick up our trail of the morning. How far away are we from camp, do you reckon, Jack?"

"An hour's tramp yet," he was told with an assurance that surprised Steve. "If you're wondering how I can tell, I'll show you. Don't you remember our stopping to take a good look at this queer twisted tree that seems to be trying to make its straight neighbors support it? Well, I remember that we were just about one full hour out when we got here."

"It takes you to notice everything, Jack. I never once thought to pay any attention to our time when we were going, except to count the hours until it would be near noon, and feeding time."

"What about that snack you saved over?" chuckled Jack, who knew what the answer was bound to be, because he had often seen Steve nibbling on the sly.

"Gone long ago, every crumb of it," came the frank admission, "and right now there's beginning to crop up a strong desire for more grub. I hope Toby thinks to have supper all ready for us when we do get in."

Steve was limping more or less now as he trailed along behind the leader. He felt tired, and that heel bothered him again; besides, sheltered by the friendly darkness he thought he was at liberty to shuffle along in any old fashion that offered him the most comfort.

"We'll ease up on the eye strain a bit for one thing," Jack was saying as he fumbled at one of his pockets.

Suddenly a brilliant shaft of white light shot out ahead of them. Steve gave utterance to a startled cry, in which delight was mingled with surprise.

"So you fetched along one of those hand-electric torches, did you, Jack?" he exclaimed. "Well, a flashlight never had a better chance to make itself useful than right now. It's going to be a picnic from here on. I can see every little twig and blade of grass; and as for our trail, a fellow could follow it with one eye shut. Thank goodness! our troubles for the day are ended; unless it comes on to rain cats and dogs before we get under shelter."

He cast frequent anxious glances aloft whenever the trees were open enough to allow of a view of the sky. There were no stars visible, as must have been the case had it not clouded over; because the hour had grown late enough for an exhibition of the usual heavenly display.

"I hate to say it, Jack, but I really thought I felt a drop right then," Steve remarked.

"We can stand it all right, if we have to," commented the other, as though determined not to be cast down by such a trifling happening. "I have a hunch that it won't amount to much, if it rains at all. What's a little wetting between friends, tell me? And neither of us happens to be made of sugar or salt. This sort of thing lends variety and spice to an outing in the woods. It would be too monotonous if every single thing just happened as we planned it. Besides, we have gone half an hour since leaving that twisted tree."

"Jack, just then it seemed to me I could glimpse some sort of a light ahead of us. Toby might have built a roaring fire, to cheer us up as we came along the back trail. Yes, there I could see it flame up again, over the trees and against the background of the clouded sky. We're getting close to home, thank goodness!"

"I agree with you, Steve, for I saw it just as you said. Toby, like a good fellow, has started up a big fire. He must be getting a bit anxious about us by this time, and you can't blame him much. No one likes to be left alone in camp all day, and then have a dark night come along, with prospects of a storm, too."

"Shall I give him a shout, Jack? It'll ease the poor fellow's mind some."

"Just one whoop, then, Steve. He'll understand, and can be finishing supper while he waits. How about that rain now; have you felt any more drops?"

"No, I own up I haven't," confessed Steve, "and mebbe I was mistaken about thinking as I did. Queer how things somehow do manage to clear up. Often what we dread never happens at all. That old cat didn't tackle us, though I felt sure she would; the storm hasn't caught us yet, if I did count on getting soaked through; and there lies the camp before us," as a sudden turn in the trail allowed them to catch a glimpse of a still distant fire that seemed to leap upward wildly.

The thought of soon arriving at the end of their long tramp gave both lads additional vigor, so that they actually increased their pace, and made better time in the last half mile of the journey.

Toby could be seen bustling about as though he had heard Steve's whoop, now and again he would stand and shade his eyes with his hand as he stared into the darkness over the fire. Thinking to add to his peace of mind Jack flashed his light several times as a signal, which he knew the other would understand, for Toby had been with him when the hand-torch was purchased, and knew all about it.

Finally they reached the camp. How welcome did the sight of the big khaki-colored tent, that cheery campfire, and the friendly wagon standing close by seem to the eyes of the tired stragglers as they stalked in and threw themselves down on the ground to rest.

"Supper all ready, fellows, just when you say the word," cheerily chirped Toby Hopkins; "but if you're overly tired you'd better take things easy a bit before eating."



CHAPTER X

THE NIGHT ALARM

Steve was so ravenously hungry after his long tramp that he could not be held back long. Doctors might say it was very bad to eat when exhausted, but what boy was ever known to restrain himself on that account?

So they settled down on the logs, and had a surprise in store for them, because Toby had actually fashioned a rude sort of table from several boards fetched along in the wagon for that very purpose.

"This is something like," burst out Steve, when he found the dishes being spread before him, and caught a scent of a savory stew the cook had prepared in vast quantities, knowing Steve as he did.

"Sorry I haven't any tablecloth and napkins to do the thing up brown," ventured Toby, whereat a shout went up from the others, who violently declared that such things were taboo in the woods, and never see unless there were ladies in camp.

Of course it was only natural that Toby should be eager to learn of their adventures during the long day; but he knew nothing could induce them to talk until at least the raw edge of their clamorous appetites had been taken off; so he continued to ply them with more food.

Jack, seeing the mute look of entreaty in Toby's face finally took pity on him.

"Now, you'll want to hear what sort of time we've met with, Toby," he said; "and how we had to hand over the laurel wreath of victory to one old mother cat that somehow seemed averse to letting us go ahead."

"A cat!" ejaculated Toby, and then he looked wise; "Guess you must mean a lynx, don't you, Jack, and with whelps in the bargain. Whee!"

"No, this was a wildcat of the ordinary variety," Jack told him. "A Canada lynx is an altogether different object, and has tasseled ears that make it look mighty queer. But Steve here will tell you why we didn't dare tackle the old lady when she threw down the gauntlet."

"I want to know!" cried Toby. "Tell me how it came about, Steve. I noticed that both of you seemed to be carrying pretty hefty clubs when you came in. So there are ferocious wild beasts at large up here in the Pontico Hills country?"

"Ferocious is hardly the word to describe that wildcat, I tell you, Toby," said Steve. "Wow! how she did spit and snarl until a fellow's blood ran cold. And when we glimpsed her yellow eyes they seemed to glow like phosphorous."

So the story was told by degrees, Steve liking to linger when he reached the point where their progress was barred the second time by the audacious and persevering feline foe.

"Wasn't it too bad you didn't have the shotgun along just then," observed Toby, "because you'd have easily knocked that beast over, and ended its ugly career."

"Just what I said several times," Steve asserted, "and I'd have been tickled half to death at the chance; but then I don't believe Jack would have fired, even if we had the gun along. You see, it would have told anybody within a mile of the spot how we were poking around, and that's something against his plans."

They both looked yearningly toward Jack, but he only smiled, and made no remark, upon which Steve sighed, and shook his head as if to confess that it was no use trying to tempt their leader to anticipate his promised disclosure by even an hour.

By degrees everything was told, even to some of the remarkable sights that they had run across during their tramp. Steve spoke of the enormous tree alongside of which he had stood while Jack snapped off a picture, so as to show by comparison just what a magnificent old forest monarch the mighty oak was.

An hour passed, and they were enjoying every minute of the time. It felt so good to be back in camp again. Those among my boy readers who have ever been through a similar experience can easily understand the sensation of solid comfort that took possession of Steve as he lolled there, filled to the limit with supper, and enjoying the crackling fire in a way words could never describe.

Jack seemed to have recovered from his fatigue, for he was busying himself in some sort of way. Steve, too well satisfied with his position even to move, watched him for some time, while Toby, like the good fellow he was, wrestled with the pots and pans and pannikins that had been soiled with getting supper.

"Would you mind telling me, Jack, what in the wide world you're doing with all that dark-colored cord, and those tin pans in the bargain?" Steve finally burst out with, unable to restrain his bubbling curiosity longer.

"I'm trying to save our bacon, that's all," replied the other calmly; but this explanation only increased the mystery; so far as Steve was concerned.

"I reckon I'm particularly stupid tonight, because I'm tired, Jack," he went on to say, desperately; "but, honest now, I don't get the hang of it at all. What do you mean by saving our bacon? Does that apply to our fine pork products in the wagon yonder; or are you hinting that perhaps our lives are in danger, and you're fixing up a game to keep us from going under?"

Jack chuckled as he explained further.

"I've got our provisions in mind when I designate them all under the general name of bacon, you understand, Steve."

"But how are they in danger of being carried off, Jack? I wonder now if you suspect that hungry old mother cat would follow us all the way here, with the idea of making a night raid on our well stocked larder. Could she know we must have plenty of grub along in camp? Please explain a little further, won't you, Jack?"

"It's a two-legged thief I've got in mind, you see," he was told. "Have you forgotten what we said that perhaps the easiest way to make us clear out of the Pontico Hills country would be by stripping us of all our grub? Well, it's to prevent the possibility of such a calamity overtaking us that I'm working this game right now."

Steve evinced new interest on hearing this. He even bestirred himself, and limped over to see what Jack was doing at closer range. After watching for a short time, he gave a laugh as though he had solved the puzzling mystery.

"Oh! I'm on to your fine game now, all right, Jack, old scout!" he exclaimed, as he saw the other fasten one end of the cord to a collection of tins which he had assembled in a heap. "It's going to be a sort of home-made alarm clock, I reckon. You've fixed that cord low down near the ground, so a man can't get near the wagon without brushing up against it. When he does he's apt to break the cord and that'll let the bunch of tins drop down from where they're dangling. Whoop! what a glorious jangle there'll be about that time. I warrant you the intended thief will get the scare of his sweet life, and how he will run like mad!"

"You've guessed it finally, Steve, though it did take you a long while," Jack assured him. "And we'll have the gun handy, so as to send a shot up in the air, and add to his terror. Of course I may be off in my guess, and no one may visit us tonight, or any other night during our stay. But then lots of business men insure their houses and their goods when they never dream that they will have a fire. This cord is our insurance policy."

"Yes," sang out Toby, who had been eagerly listening to all this talk, although up to that point taking no part in the same, "an ounce of prevention is always better than a whole pound of cure. They say, too, that a stitch in time saves nine, though I've had many a one in my side, and it didn't save me at all. But Jack, it's a bully good scheme all right, and ought to work first rate."

"I can just imagine three fellows about our size piling out in the wee small hours of the night, clad in their striped pajamas, and hearing a scared individual go whooping through the woods, banging up against every other tree as he runs. It will be a great picnic, for us I mean, boys; and I'm half hoping he does come along this very night."

"How about that rain, Steve?" asked Jack, quietly.

"Why, would you believe me, it has actually cleared up again, with all the stars shining up there like fun? Which goes to show the folly of borrowing trouble, eh, Jack? There I was, figuring out just how it'd feel to be wet to the bone, and all that stuff, when never a drop came down. I had my worry for nothing."

"It happens lots of times with most people," chuckled Jack. "There, I think that ought to fill the bill. The string isn't very strong, and even a slight knock will serve to break it, because you see it's being held pretty taut by the weight of all those tin pans. Once that happens and you'll hear Rome howl."

"I think I'll sleep easier, because of your precaution, Jack," asserted Toby.

"Huh! I just know I shall," added Steve. "I've worried a lot about our supply of eats, and it gave me a pain even to think of them being stolen. But if the trap only works like it promises to do, we'll be safeguarded all right. If the marauder means to come over the same distance we covered, Jack, he'll be doing great stunts. And then there's that cat to consider in the bargain. Oh! I hardly think we'll be bothered tonight, anyhow."

Later on they retired to their blankets. Steve declared that he would not need to be rocked to sleep that night, and that there was nothing like exhaustion to induce good sound slumber. Toby had kept himself busy much of the day, finding many things to do about the camp, following out various suggestions which Jack had mentioned in talking matters over, and which of course he had meant himself to undertake when the right time came along. So Toby was tired also and ready to welcome the "call of the blankets," as Steve humorously designated the proposition to go to bed.

Jack took a last look around. He wished to be sure everything was secure in case a rain storm did drop in upon them during the remainder of the night; or some light-fingered gentleman invaded the camp, on looting bent.

Finally he too crept inside the canvas. They were eventually tucked away snugly in their warm blankets, and had said the last goodnights as the lantern was extinguished, and darkness reigned within the tent.

Outside, the fire burned low, since Jack did not see any necessity for leaving much of a blaze when it was a summer night. Besides, there must always be more or less danger of embers being blown about by an increasing night breeze, possibly to start an incipient conflagration amidst dead leaves gathered behind some log, and thus cause trouble, for it is often much easier to start a fire than to put one out.

It must have been midnight or some time past when the trio of campers were suddenly aroused by a most terrific clamor. It sounded as though all the small boys in Chester had secured dishpans and such instruments of ear torture, and assembled with the idea of giving a village serenade to some newly wedded folks who would be expected to treat the bunch to cakes and fresh cider.

Although possibly a bit confused on being so abruptly aroused from sound slumber by such an unearthly din, Steve, as well as Jack and Toby, instantly grasped the stunning truth—that was the alarm which had been rigged up to give fair warning that their precious stores were being raided. A thief had invaded the camp and unconsciously disclosed his presence in this loud-tongued brazen fashion.

It was now up to them to appear hastily on the scene and add to his alarm in every way possible. So acting in concert they all started to crawl out from under the canvas, Jack clutching the double-barrel shotgun in his hand.



CHAPTER XI

THE RASCALLY THIEF

Could any one blame those boys for feeling highly worked up just about that time when they were hustling to get outside the canvas shelter, and see what strange things were taking place? The din created by the sudden fall of the bunch of tin pans was still ringing in their ears. And doubtless all manner of wildly exaggerated ideas must be crowding their brains in that same brief space of time.

Each had something to do in the general line of self-defense as arranged for in case such an event transpired while they slept. There was Jack holding the gun as became the leader of the flock. Behind, and crowding close upon his heels, came Steve, bearing his jolly big club, with which he felt able to flay even a wildcat, and he had quite a notion, too, along that same line. Toby brought up the rear, not because of any undue timidity on his part, but because somebody had to "take the drumstick," as his father was wont to say when they had turkey, and in this case all of them could not be either first or second; so Toby guarded the rear.

He grasped the flashlight in a trembling hand, and his orders were to make use of it just when Jack gave the word.

The night was dark, very dark, in fact. The old moon had not yet put in an appearance in the eastern sky, which went to prove how aged and dilapidated it must indeed be to rise at such a late hour. As for the fire, it was entirely extinct by this time, and not able to render the first aid in time of need.

Every fellow, upon emerging began to look eagerly around him. Just what Steve, for instance, expected to discover would be a difficult question to answer. He may still have had in mind Mrs. Bobcat and her brood of kits, and half anticipated being called on to offer fight in order to defend the camp. Anything seemed possible with that brooding and mysterious darkness hanging over the place. Its sable depths might be peopled with a great variety of goblins, and unnatural wood folks, gathered to expel these rash, invaders of their haunts.

After that one general look around Steve focused his sight upon the particular spot where, as he well knew, the wagon had been standing at the time they sought their blankets.

Well, it was still there, if that fact could afford him any satisfaction. He could just manage to dimly make it out in the darkness, for very little starlight found entrance through an opening aloft in the interlocked treetops and branches.

Even as he looked Steve felt sure he saw some object move as though it were possessed of life. That caused him to have another nice thrill that sent a shiver up and down his spine.

Jack was already starting to creep that way, trailing his gun along, which weapon he held in such a fashion that it could be brought into use without the loss of more than a second.

About this time Toby began to forge alongside Steve. He had remembered that he was the torchbearer of the trio, and on that account had no business to be hanging in the rear, when Jack at any second might call upon him to make use of the flashlight.

Strange noises greeted them, of which they could make nothing. Indeed, Steve was of the opinion that possibly two persons were scuffling over there by the supply wagon; for he likened the queer sounds to half-suppressed breathing, and such struggles as wrestlers might indulge in. He could not make it out at all, nor why two invaders of the camp should pick upon one another in such a ridiculous manner.

There, that sounded like a blow; and it was immediately followed by a plain grunt, as though the recipient of the stroke had had his wind partly knocked out of him.

If only Jack would give the order for Toby to flash his light on the scene, doubtless the mystery might be explained. But so far he had kept silent on this score, although still creeping stealthily forward.

Steve, wondering still, and trembling a whole lot in the bargain, believed he could understand what Jack must have in his mind. He wanted to get close enough up before betraying their presence, so that he could cover the pilferers, and let them see that they were in range of a deadly weapon, so that to run away would very likely get them into a peck of trouble.

The strange sounds kept up, and in an increased ratio, Steve figured. Undoubtedly whoever it was making them must be growing more and more vehement, as though something which was badly wanted managed to evade his clutch. Even the racket produced by those clanging tin pans had not frightened the intruder away, which Steve considered most amazing indeed. He felt sure that had he been invading a camp, and had such a fearful noise suddenly broke out, he must have taken wildly to his heels, and made a record run of it in order to escape the consequences of his folly.

Then Steve caught what was plainly a loud snort, as of triumph. This gave him a new idea, and which was hardly calculated to increase his comfort very much.

Why, that was hardly such a sound as a human being would emit, being much louder, and along harsher lines. Then what else was likely to make it? Jack had said a considerable number of wild game must exist among these same Pontico Hills; indeed, on the way there had they not seen a live doe and fawn; then there was the red fox with the big brush of a tail that had slunk out of their path while they were making their way through the woods; and last, but far from least, Steve remembered the adventure with the wildcat and her kits.

If in the brief space of their stay they had already run across such a variety of game animals would it not be safe to believe there might also be other species roaming the woods, and seeking to secure their daily meals wherever they could find them?

Now Steve had never seen a bear at large, nor yet a wolf at liberty, but like all other wideawake boys he had fairly doted over these beasts when held in captivity in the circus or menagerie that annually visited Chester.

Would a bear, for instance, be apt to make such snorting sounds when searching the wagon for some prize tidbit that its keen scent told it was to be found there? Steve believed even this might be possible. He gripped his club with a firm conviction that there would soon be a little ruction taking place around that immediate region beside which the famous Donnybrook Fair in Ireland could never hold a candle, "to use the language of his own thoughts."

But then, of course, Jack must shoulder the main brunt of the fight, because he had the gun in his possession. Steve only hoped Jack would be able to send his first charge straight into the heart of Bruin, so as to bring him down immediately. That would save them all from a rough-and-tumble encounter where claws and teeth would be apt to play havoc with their cuticle, and render their faces far less attractive than when they left home.

How about the law? Steve asked himself, for it seemed as though in that minute of time the boy's active brain were capable of grappling with every sort of question, and finding an adequate answer. Of course bears were protected in the summer close season; but when a fellow's life was at stake no game law had a right to force him to lay down and allow a measly bear to walk all over him, as well as steal his precious grub.

So in a flash of time Steve settled that matter in his mind, all right. Jack would be acting well within his privilege as a citizen of the State if he defended his property against robbery. No law could touch him for doing that; and then besides, they could bury Mr. Bruin down deep, so that the game wardens would never find a trace of him there.

Steve really felt better after settling this weighty matter. Of course it still remained for Jack to carry out the provisions of the plan of campaign; but then Jack was a fellow with steady nerves, and might be trusted to do his part without a slip-up. Only Steve did rather envy him the privilege of actually shooting a big, hairy bear; for later on what a great thing it would be to tell to some of the Doubting Thomases of Chester. Yes, before burying the defunct beast they ought to remember to cut off one of his great paws with its ugly claws, so as to have some trophy to show as positive proof of their story.

Well, while Steve's active mind was fixing all these wonderful details with so much accuracy they were all three of them creeping along inch by inch, and drawing nearer and nearer to the scene of activity.

Instead of diminishing the strange sounds actually increased in volume. They were now accompanied by a crunching, of which Steve could make nothing, for he was not sufficiently acquainted with the peculiarities of bears to know how they acted when foraging for food, and climbing into a covered wagon at that in search of the same.

"Jack!"

That was Toby trying to speak in a whisper, but his voice was wofully weak, and moreover had a strange tremor about it that at another time would have made Steve laugh uproariously; but he did nothing of the kind now, partly because he suspected he could not have delivered himself in any stronger tones if he had attempted to speak.

"What is it?" came in a sibilant whisper over Jack's shoulder; for he was only a few feet ahead of the other pair of crawlers.

"Hadn't I better shoot with the flashlight now?" asked Toby eagerly, showing how he had not forgotten what his line of duty was, in spite of all the excitement attending their issuing from the tent.

"I'll give you the word right away, so be ready," Jack told him, cautiously; but the sounds over there at the wagon continued just as vehemently as before, and it was plainly evident that the thief cared little or nothing about their presence near by. "He's around at the back of the wagon, and I'm trying to get so as to cover him properly. Another six feet ought to do the business, so keep steady, Toby."

"Oh! I'm as steady as a rock!" affirmed the one who carried the flashlight; but it must have been a very wobbly rock then, if his bodily condition corresponded with the decided quaver in his shaky voice.

Ten seconds later and Jack suddenly exclaimed:

"Turn the light on the rascal, Toby!"

Toby hastened to comply with the demand. Just as he did so they were thrilled to hear a flickering whinny, a very sociable whinny in fact, coming from the rear of the covered wagon. Then as the strong white glow shot forth they made a wonderful discovery.

The dreadful thief was disclosed in all his grim proportions. He stood there with his stubby tail switching back and forth, and contentedly munching great mouthfuls of oats which he had managed to secure from the gaping sack, opening which had doubtless given him all the trouble and caused those strange grunts.

Yes, they recognized him as soon as the light fell on his sides, and Jack instead of raising the gun to his shoulder instantly let its muzzle drop to earth. For it was only gaunt old Moses, the beast of burden, broken loose, and hunting the fountain head of what he considered his too meagre meals.



CHAPTER XII

FISHERMAN'S LUCK

"Why, it's only our old Moses after all!" cried Steve, as though the astounding truth had burst upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.

"And he's trying to founder himself with the whole supply of oats, the rascal!" Toby added, indignantly.

But Moses was not afraid of foundering, apparently. He just gave another contented whinny of delight, whisked that impudent stump of a tail of his, and plunged deeper into the oat sack, which he had succeeded in getting open.

Jack was perhaps the least surprised of the trio, and even he had not more than begun to suspect the true state of affairs when the light was turned on. He doubled up with laughter, for it was really comical to see how eagerly Moses was delving into his oat supply, as though he feared he was now about to be divorced from his feast, and retired in disgrace, wherefore he wished to gobble all he could while the golden opportunity lasted.

After they had all had several convulsions of merriment Steve concluded it was time they took things in hand. Such dreadful liberties could not be allowed, or the offense condoned.

"We've got to make him break away from those oats, that's all there is about it," he went on to say, seriously. "A poor old nag of a horse never knows when he's had enough."

"Horses don't happen to be alone in that class, Steve," chirped Toby.

"Never you mind about that," snorted the other; "and it doesn't become you to give me a dig, Toby, because for a fellow of your size you can go me one better when it comes to eating. But, Jack, we ought to put a stop to this midnight feast, hadn't we? Oats cost money, and even horses have their price in the market."

"Sure thing, Steve," chuckled the one addressed, as stepping forward he endeavored to lead Moses away from the tail end of the wagon.

The old horse strenuously objected, and upon finding Jack determined he took one farewell grab at the fine contents of the sack, so that he could have something to munch on for a while afterwards. He gave repeated backward looks toward the wagon, and seemed very unhappy when all his dreams of a glorious feast had been knocked on the head after this rude fashion.

"Now, you hold him a minute or two, Steve," remarked Jack, "while I go and get into some clothes. This night air is salubrious all right, but apt to set a fellow's teeth to chattering."

"That's right, it is so," Toby acknowledged; but despite his shivering he would not retreat to his warm blanket until the show had ended.

Jack hurried as best he could, having pity on his chums. When he came back partly dressed he sent them to their beds.

"I'll tie up old Moses so he won't be apt to get loose again in a hurry," Jack advised them, and adding a bit reproachfully, "for you must have been in a hurry after watering him in the evening, Steve. After this I'll make it a point to see he's all right before I turn in."

So the horse was led away, and his rope once more fastened, this time in such a secure fashion that there was no possibility of its getting untied. He could move around within a certain radius, and nip the sweet grass, as well as dream of how close he had been to the greatest banquet of his natural life.

Before he went into the tent Jack reset the tin-pan trap. It had already paid for what little trouble it caused him, because only for the alarm having been given none of them might have heard Moses at his surreptitious work; and consequently he would have devoured the entire two weeks' supply of oats, or killed himself in the endeavor to dispose of them, which would have been a calamity in several ways, both for Moses and the camping party.

Again did the little hand-torch come in for a meed of praise on the part of the one who had to carry out all these things in the middle of a dark night. Both the others seemed to be pretty far gone along the road to dreamland when Jack crept under his blankets. Toby did drowsily grunt, and ask if everything was all right, but apparently hardly knew what he was saying; so Jack only answered with a word, and cuddled under his coverings, for he felt a trifle chilled.

There was no further alarm that night. The expected prowler did not show up, much to the satisfaction of all concerned; and morning found them in good shape. Moses was already whinnying as to remind them that horses got hungry. Apparently the old reprobate never knew what a close call he had had; left to his own resources, morning might not have been so calm for him, if he lived to see the sun rise at all. And as Toby wisely said, horse doctors must be as "scarce as hens' teeth" up in the Pontico Hills district.

Somehow the adventure of the night seemed to appear even more comical when viewed in the broad light of day. Toby in particular laughed every time he thought of old Moses standing there, monarch of all he surveyed, and trying to gulp the oats down like mad, as though he feared it was too good a thing to last.

"Do you know," Toby observed, as they sat at breakfast that morning, "Moses actually seemed to have tears in his eyes when Jack here forced him to leave the end of the wagon. Why, that was the one grand opportunity of his life to stuff—a regular Thanksgiving jamboree spread out before him. He kept turning his head and looking back as if he had lost his best friend. If he'd been going to the execution block I don't think he could have shown more regret. Poor old chap, it was almost cruel to cheat him out of his feast."

Then they turned their thoughts to other subjects, because, as Jack wisely said, while this escapade on the part of Moses may have been a great event in his life, it was only an episode with them.

"How shall we spend today?" Jack asked.

"Well, since you want to know my opinion," spoke up Toby, briskly, "I've got my mouth made up for another mess of those fine and frisky Paradise River bass; and I'd like a whole lot to have one of you fellows go over with me."

"How about you, Steve?" queried Jack, turning to the partner of his previous day's long trip.

"Reckon I'd be wise to lay off a spell, because, to tell you the truth that heel did give me a mite of bother, especially on the return trip. You go with Toby, Jack, and take your camera along. He says there are some dandy things you might want to snap off between here and the river. And in case either of you hook a four-pound bass you can get a picture of the fight that will be worth seeing, as well as of the beauty after he's landed. I mean to get over there later and try my luck, don't forget, Toby, so leave a few in the river, please."

So it was settled. Jack somehow did not seem disposed to take that long tramp on two successive days, though doubtless he had certain plans arranged in his mind which could be carried out later on. With nearly two weeks still ahead of them it was needless to hurry matters. "Rome wasn't built in a day," he often told the more impatient Toby, when the other was showing signs of fretting because things failed to move quite as rapidly as he wished.

"Just leave the things for me to look after," said Steve, as they arose after finishing breakfast. "I've thought up a few jobs I'd like to tackle while you're away. And I'll also agree to see that old Moses doesn't cut up any more of his capers. Have a bully good time, boys. When do you expect to get back, Jack?"

"By noon, so far as I know now," he was told. "We ought to have all the fish we can use by then, if they bite at all; and the fishing is never worth much from eleven to three. I'll be able to snatch off any pictures I'd care to take in addition; so look for us by twelve, Steve."

"I'll have lunch ready then, remember that, Toby," called out the campkeeper, as the pair started to the tent to get their fishing outfits and the camera.

Toby having been over the route took it upon himself to act as guide to the expedition. Indeed, a tyro could have found the way, for in going and coming they had left quite a plain trail, easily followed.

Of course Jack was interested in everything he saw. Toby frequently called his attention to certain features of the landscape which apparently had appealed to his love of the beautiful on the former occasion. This showed that Toby kept his eyes about him pretty much all the time; it also proved him to have an appreciation of Nature's handiwork, rather unusual in a boy.

They did not take much more than half an hour to cross over to the bank of the Paradise River. Toby himself remembered skating this far up the stream several winters back, but everything looked so entirely different in the summer-time that he could hardly be positive about this.

It was a pretty scene, and with not a living human being in sight quite appealed to Jack. Birds flitted from tree to tree; small woods animals were to be seen frequently, and Toby even showed Jack where a deer had been down to drink, leaving there a plain series of delicate hoof tracks.

"Now let's try the place that treated me best of all," he went on to say, with all the consequential airs of a first discoverer.

"I want several pictures of this spot," Jack remarked, "but they will do better along about ten o'clock, when the sun gets stronger, and the contrasts are more striking. Besides, the fishing must come first, and its always in its prime early in the morning. So get busy, Toby, and let's see who lands the first bass."

Jack himself was something of a fisherman, as Toby well understood. Indeed, he knew more about the habits of the tricky bass than any of the boys in Chester; for as a rule they had been content simply to angle with a worm, and take "pot-luck," while Jack had read up on the subject, and even done more or less fancy fly fishing amidst other scenes.

Nevertheless Toby got the first fish. Perhaps this was because he knew just how deep the water was, where a favorite swirl had yielded him several finny prizes on the occasion of his former visit; or possibly just through "dumb luck," as he called it. There is no accounting for the freaks of fishing; a greenhorn is just as apt as not to haul in the biggest bass ever taken in a lake, where an accomplished angler has taken a thousand smaller fish from year to year, yet never landed such a prize. "Fisherman's luck" has thus long become a famous saying.

However, Toby was not too exultant over his success. He fancied that before they were done with the morning's sport Jack would be giving him a pretty lively chase for the honors.

They certainly did have plenty of fun, though perhaps the finny inhabitants of Paradise River may not have enjoyed the game quite as well, since it was too one-sided. Inside of an hour they had taken seven very good fish, really as many as they could well use; though Toby kept saying that it was hard to gauge that appetite of Steve's, and one or two more wouldn't come in amiss. It is so easy for even a conscientious fisherman to find excuses for continuing the sport as long as the fish will bite, such is the fascination connected with the game.

Then the expected happened. Jack had a tremendous bite, and was speedily playing a fish that made his fine rod bend like a whip. Toby, forgetting his own line, began dancing up and down on the bank, and urging Jack to play him carefully.



CHAPTER XIII

THE MAN WITH THE PICKAX

"Oh!" cried Toby excitedly, as the hooked fish leaped wildly from the water, and tried to fall across the taut line, with the idea of breaking loose, though Jack skillfully lowered his tip, and avoided that impending catastrophe. "What a dandy, Jack! Three pounds, and mebbe a lot more. Look at him fight, will you? He's a regular old bronze-back warrior, I tell you. I hope you land that beauty. Play him for all you're worth, Jack; please don't let him get away. And now I hope Steve will say he's got enough."

"We haven't got him yet by a jugful, remember, Toby," remonstrated Jack. "They say you mustn't count your chickens till the eggs are hatched; and I tell you a big bass like that is never caught until he's flopping on the bank. They're up to all kinds of tricks. Now he's boring down, and trying to find a rock to get under, so he can grind the line, until it weakens and gives way."

"Don't let him get to the bottom, Jack!" cried Toby, anxiously. "That rod of yours will stand the strain all right. Give him the butt, Jack; keep him on top of the water! Oh! but isn't he a grand fighter, though."

Toby could hardly have shown more interest had he been holding the rod instead of Jack; for he was not a selfish lad. By slow degrees Jack began to tire the big bass out. His rushes were losing some of their fierceness now, and the boy, shortening his line as he found opportunity, was able to partly drag the fish along to help in exhausting or "drowning" him, since his mouth was gaping open.

They had no landing-net, so Toby hastily stripped off shoes and socks in order to wade knee-deep into the stream, and help get the prize safely ashore. He would have willingly gone in up to his neck if necessary, to make a sure thing of the landing part.

Jack wisely selected a little strip of shallow beach as the best place for carrying out the finishing stroke of his conquest. Here Toby was able to use both of his hands, and actually push the big bass along, until in the end they had him safe on the shore, flapping still, as though his defiant spirit had not yet given in to the adversity that had overtaken him.

Long they gloated over his beauty. Having no scales along they could only guess at the weight of the prize. Jack said a good three pounds, but the more enthusiastic Toby went half a pound higher.

"Why, it wouldn't surprise me much if he even tipped the scales at four," he assured Jack. "See how thick through he is, will you, and a good twenty-two inches long in the bargain. Oh! how he came down with a splash whenever he'd jump two feet out of the water, and turn over! I'll never forget how finely you handled him, either, Jack, old chum! Now, if it had been me I'd like as not have got so excited I'd lost my fish by some fool play. But that ought to be enough for even Steve, and so I reckon we must quit the fun."

He looked dolefully toward the river, as though disliking very much to give up when the acme of the sport had just been reached.

"I hope you'll take his mate another day, Toby," Jack told him, hopefully. "Don't forget the old saying that 'there's just as good fish in the sea as ever were caught,' and it applies to the Paradise River in the bargain. And now I'll wash up, so I can get busy with my photographic work, as it's about ten o'clock, and the sun as strong as I'd want."

He seemed to have made up his mind just what pictures appealed most to him, judging from the business-like way he went about his work. Toby stood by ready to assist in any way possible, though he did not happen to be as greatly interested in photography as his comrade. So after about half an hour Jack had accomplished his task.

"I think they ought to turn out pretty fine," was his finishing comment, as he closed his camera, the present of the lady who had engaged him to combine business with pleasure on this camping trip. "If there's anything wrong the fault will be wholly mine, because the conditions certainly couldn't be improved on."

"I suppose it's home for us now, Jack?" asked Toby.

"We might as well be making a start," he was told. "Perhaps I'll want to snap off another picture on the way, because one or two things struck me as worth while."

Accordingly Toby lifted the string of fish from the water, where they had been keeping cool. He grinned as he pretended to stagger under the load.

"Believe me, they're going to turn out something of a weight, Jack."

"We'll fix that soon enough, and share the burden," the other told him, as he picked up a stout pole, and proceeded to fasten the fish to its centre. "Many hands make light work, they say, and when we carry our prize bag of fish between us the strain will hardly be noticed."

It proved just as Jack had said; what would have been a heavy weight for one to carry was a mere bagatelle for both, thanks to that pole, which was some six feet in length.

"First time in all my life I ever had to tote home a string of fish in this way," Toby confessed, though with brimming good humor. "Don't I wish we were going through Chester with the bunch, though; how the fellows' eyes would pop out of their heads to see this whopping big chap you landed. And I just know Steve will immediately press both hands on his stomach, and say: 'That's about my size!'"

"Don't be too hard on Steve, Toby," chided Jack. "All of us have our failings, and for one I've got my appetite along with me pretty much all the time. He happens to be a big fellow, and in fine health, so he feels hungry as many as six times a day, especially when in the woods, where the air tones up the system."

Leaving the river with some regret they started to head for the camp that lay possibly a mile and a half away "as the crow flies." Sometimes they chatted as they walked along, and then again both of them would fall silent, being taken up it might be with thoughts of those left behind in dear old Chester.

It chanced to be during one of those quiet periods that Toby suddenly shook the pole from which the string of fish dangled, as though endeavoring to attract the attention of his companion without making any noise. Glancing toward the other Jack saw him pointing with outstretched finger; and as he turned his own eyes in the direction indicated he discovered the cause of Toby's singular behavior.

There was a man in sight, though just then, as he was bending over, he had apparently failed to discover their nearby presence. Jack instantly sank down to the ground, and Toby imitated his example; after which they crawled closer together, until they could exchange whispers.

"That's the man!" was the first low exclamation Toby gave utterance to.

"The man who came to the camp, and asked questions, do you mean?" demanded Jack, taking a cautious peep over the tops of the bushes that afforded them an effectual screen.

"Yep, he's the same one," Toby went on to say, decisively. "I recognize his figure, and there, you can glimpse his face right now, which I'd know among a thousand. But whatever can he be doing with that pickax?"

Jack seemed to be taking a deep interest in the actions of the mysterious stranger. He watched him move a little further along, and then start to dig with vigorous blows. They were quite close to him, and his face could be plainly seen. Jack was studying it intently, as though he might be comparing its leading features with a certain description that had been given to him.

When presently Toby saw his chum starting to get his camera in working order he drew a breath of admiration, for he guessed that Jack was intending to try to secure a snapshot of the man working with that pickax, as though desirous of offering it as positive proof that could not be denied.

Creeping behind a neighboring tree the generous trunk of which offered him the necessary asylum, Jack watched his chance. He waited until the man stood up to rest, with the pickax held over his shoulder, and the sun well on his face. Then a tiny click announced to Toby that the thing had been done.

He was keeping his eyes glued on the man; but as several crows were holding a noisy confab not far away, and a squirrel had taken to barking at the intruder with the digging tool, such a slight sound as the clicking of the camera apparently passed unnoticed.

The stranger seemed to be more or less excited. After mopping his perspiring forehead he once more commenced digging here and there in a most tantalizing fashion. Toby could not comprehend what it could mean. Was there gold or some other precious deposit to be found up here among these hills, and might this strange man be an old prospector from the West who had had long experience in searching for mineral lodes? But then such things were seldom discovered so near the top of the ground, Toby recollected. He wished the man would go away so he could speak to Jack, and ask him what he thought; because the more he considered the matter the greater became his conviction that Jack must surely know.

Now the man seemed to have satisfied himself, for he again shouldered the pick, and started to leave the spot. Toby was glad to notice that he had turned aside and consequently there would be no danger of his coming upon them in their hiding-place. He waved a farewell after the other, boylike.

"Goodbye, Mister Man," Jack heard him whisper, exultantly; "come again when you can't stay so long. Your room is better appreciated than your company. Who are you, anyway; and what're you muddling about around here, I'd like to know."

After the man had been swallowed up in the depths of the woods Jack made the other lie quiet for something like five minutes. This was to make doubly sure the stranger did not turn on his tracks, and come back again. It was hard for Jack to hold in, because he was quivering with eagerness to investigate, and see if he could find out what had interested the other so much.

"Guess he's gone for keeps, Jack," suggested the eager Toby, fretting like a hound held in the leash.

"Yes, it looks that way," returned the other, commencing to get upon his feet, "and I suppose we'd be safe in going on our way again."

"But, Jack, don't you mean to take a peep over there where that chap was digging so wildly to learn what he was up to?" demanded Toby.

Jack looked at him as though trying to make up his mind.

"Well, it has to come some time," he remarked, as if to himself, "and I suppose it's hardly right to keep you in the dark much longer, now that you've seen as much as you have. So come along, Toby, and we'll investigate."

They were quickly on the spot. Here and there could be seen evidences of the man's digging, though he had hardly more than turned over the upper crust of earth and rocks. So far as Toby could see there was not the first sign of quartz, or anything else that, as he understood it, had to do with mining. Indeed, just in that particular place the earth looked unusually grimy and moist and oozy, a fact that struck Toby as surprising. Then he commenced sniffing the air more and more vigorously, while over his face crept a smile that kept growing broader and broader, as though the light of a great discovery had burst upon him like a dazzling comet.



CHAPTER XIV

WHEN THE SUN STOOD STILL

"I smell oil!" exclaimed Toby, "and that's what's oozing out of the ground right here where the man was grubbing with his tool! Jack, that was what he was looking for, wasn't it? And you must have known something about it right along, now I stop to think of a whole lot of things that have happened."

Jack was busy bending down and examining the oil-soaked earth. He even went to the trouble of taking some of it and wrapping it in a piece of waterproof paper he was carrying in his pocket; just as though he had prepared himself for just such an occasion, the observing Toby thought.

"I know you're burning with curiosity to know what it means, Toby," he went on to say, "and I've finally made up my mind to explain the solution of all this mystery, as well as tell you who and what that man is. But you'll have to content yourself with figuring out as many explanations as you please between now and tonight, for I don't want to say a word until Steve is also present. I take it you've got head enough to reason things out after a fashion, and grasp the answer. So don't ask me any questions, because I won't answer until after supper."

"Then I won't tell Steve a single thing about this affair," Toby went on to say, although he looked a bit disappointed, because with noon still an hour away it would be a terribly long time until they had seen the sun go down, and eaten their evening meal.

"I think it would be best not to get him excited in the bargain," advised Jack. "It's going to be a great surprise to Steve, too, because he hasn't been as keen as you on the scent, and is more in the dark."

"And seeing this monster bass will be all the excitement he can stand at a time," chuckled Toby, beginning to make the best of the situation, for he was usually an easy fellow to get along with, and Jack knew how to handle him splendidly.

They started off again, but not before Jack carefully concealed the tracks they had made. This he did to prevent the man from making a discovery should he again visit the spot, which he was very likely to do, since it would naturally have a species of fascination for him henceforth.

It was difficult for Toby to talk on any other subject while his mind was filled with the strange actions of the man who seemed to resent their presence in the neighborhood. Therefore he had little to say on the balance of the way back to camp, though Jack knew he must be doing considerable thinking, that would cover every angle of the case.

Of course Steve was delighted when he saw the monster bass. He admired it from every angle; though Toby took particular notice that Steve seemed more interested in the glorious dish it would make when cooked than in the great fight it had put up when at the end of Jack's line.

"Do you know I was just hoping you'd fetch such a dandy fish home with you," he went on to say, delightedly; "because I've made all arrangements to bake it in an oven of my own manufacture. I've dug a hole in the hard clay here, and when we've had lunch I mean to heat it furiously with red embers. Then I'll wrap that fish in a wet cloth and lay it inside, after which my oven will be sealed over to keep the heat in for hours. That's the old hunter's oven, and they do say it is the originator of all these new-fangled fireless cookers, as well as the Thermos bottles that keep things hot or cold for a whole day."

"Good boy, Steve!" cried Toby, slapping the big chum on the back affectionately. "You've got a head on you after all, sure you have."

Steve looked as though he considered this a dubious compliment, since it seemed to imply that Toby must have at times doubted the truth of his assertion. But Jack, after examining the earth oven, declared that it was sure to work splendidly.

"And six hours or so ought to be really enough to cook a fish, especially if we get it as hot as we can," he assured the architect.

In due time this was carried out. Plenty of red embers were placed in the hole in the hard clay, and covered over; still more being added until the place was furiously hot. Then the ashes being taken out the cleaned fish was placed carefully within, after which the top was sealed over with wet clay, making the oven a "hermetically sealed one," as Steve proudly proclaimed.

That was the longest afternoon Toby Hopkins ever knew during the entire course of his young life. He seemed to look up at the sun forty times, as though resting under a grave suspicion that some modern Joshua might have commanded it to "stand still." Steve began to notice his actions, and seemed puzzled to account for them, being wholly unsuspicious of the real cause.

He even at one time about the middle of the afternoon sought Jack out, finding him working at his negatives; for he had fetched along a little daylight developing tank, and had already announced himself as well pleased with what the results seemed to promise.

"Jack, see here, there's something wrong with our Toby," Steve said in a cautious voice, although the object of his remark being some distance away there was not the slightest chance of his overhearing anything.

Jack knew what was coming, but he did not even smile.

"Why, what makes you say that, Steve?" he asked, solicitously.

"He's acting so queer that I'm afraid the poor fellow must be going looney," Steve told him, with a ring of sincere regret in his voice.

"Queer in what way?" asked the other, continuing his work.

"Oh! in lots of ways," sighed Steve. "For one thing he can't keep still a minute, but jumps up, and walks around nervously. Then he's always looking up at the sun, and shaking his head as if he couldn't make things out. I've seen him looking at you as if he had a grudge he was nursing. Now something has happened to Toby since he left camp this morning, and I'd like to know what it is."

"Why, nothing has happened to him except that he's seen a lot of interesting things, the same as I have. We mean to speak of them after supper, while we lie around taking our ease, you know. Don't worry about Toby; I give you my word the boy is all right. Little danger of him ever losing his head."

"Why, I even asked him point-blank what ailed him, and if he felt any way sick, but do you know, he just smiled at me, and shrugged his shoulders in the silliest way ever. Yes, and would you believe me, Jack, he gave me a queer look and said: 'I'm not a bit sick, I tell you; I'm only tired of waiting,' and Jack, he wouldn't even explain what he meant by that. Even if you don't feel bothered I do, and there's something knocking in Toby's brain right now, I tell you. That boy has got something on his mind."

"Listen, Steve," chuckled the amused Jack. "There may be a method in Toby's seeming madness. Remember the old story of the doctor who, being called in to prescribe for an old gentleman addicted to much dram drinking, put him on a strict allowance of one drink a day, which was to be taken when he sent downstairs for his hot water for shaving. Some days afterwards, chancing to be in the neighborhood again, he stopped at the door to ask how the old party was getting on. To his surprise the butler held up his hands, and looked very solemn as he declared that he very much feared his master was going out of his mind.

"'And why do you fear that, James?' the doctor asked, alarmed.

"'Because, Doctor,' said the butler, 'every hour of the day the master insists on sending down for hot shaving water!' And so you see, Steve, there was a method in his madness, for the doctor knew why he wanted that hot water. You give Toby credit for being a sensible chap. He's only counting the minutes until that fine fish is done to a turn, and you sound the gong for supper."

Steve looked a trifle relieved after that, though he still continued to watch the uneasy Toby from time to time, and could be seen shaking his head as if his doubts had returned in full force.

Slowly but surely the glowing orb dropped closer toward the horizon. A doomed prisoner in his cell might have watched its going with dread, as the setting of the sun would bring the hour of his execution nearer; but with Toby it was just the opposite, and he counted every minute as so much gain.

Steve had evidently gauged the appetites of his chums by his own, and fearing the big fish might not go around for a third helping had prepared a panful of the smaller bass besides.

"You never can tell the first time you try out a new dodge," he offered in explanation of his bountiful provision, "and if after all my oven failed to cook in seven hours why where would we be at for supper tonight, I'd like to know. I'm a great hand for preparedness, you must know, fellows; and here's a fair taste all around, no matter what happens to the roast fish."

"But isn't it time we began to get busy eating," sighed Toby, looking so woe-begone that Steve, under the impression he must be almost starved, thrust a lot of soda crackers and a piece of cheese into his hand, saying sympathetically:

"There, that will take some of the gnawing away, Toby, and keep you up another half hour. I know how you feel, because haven't I been there myself many a time? I mean to take a look-in at my dandy oven soon, and if everything is lovely we can start business at the old stand right away."

Poor anxious Toby, how he did suffer. Evidently he had not been able wholly to clutch the truth, strive as he might; and the solution of the mystery seemed to be dangling there just beyond his reach, as though to tantalize him. Jack himself wished the time would hurry and come so that he might keep his word and "lift the lid," in the way of explanations.

When Steve went to take a look at the oven Toby insisted on accompanying him; and when the chef declared that the fish was done to a turn Toby beamed with positive delight, as though the long agonizing period of his waiting was now surely drawing near an end.

The big fish was simply elegant. The boys used up all the available adjectives at their command in order to do the subject ample justice. Never had a fish been better baked. Steve looked as proud as any peacock that strutted along a wall in self-admiration. He even promised to repeat the prize supper, if only Toby could duplicate Jack's catch.

Again and again they all passed in for more until not only the big fish was utterly gone but serious inroads had been made by them in the other mess.

"You see, I gauged our appetites fairly well after all," Steve was saying, as if to clear himself of any reproach along the lines of greediness.

At length they one and all declared they were through, whereupon Toby sat up eagerly, and turned an appealing face toward Jack.

"The time has come for you to keep your promise, Jack," he went on to say, considerably to the amazement of Steve. "So please start in and tell us who that man is we saw digging today; what he's after up here in the Pontico Hills; and just who the rich old lady in Chester may be who put up the cash to finance this expedition. The whole story, mind, and nothing held back."



CHAPTER XV

JACK LIFTS THE LID

If Toby's manner was a trifle dictatorial when he made this demand, perhaps he might be excused for feeling so. At least Jack did not seem to mind in the least, if his smile stood for anything.

Toby had waited long, and suffered horribly. Minutes had dragged out in an almost intolerable fashion as he watched the lagging sun creep down the western heavens. But at last his time of triumph had come, when according to the arrangement made between them he could ask Jack to redeem his promise of a full confession.

As for Steve, he was staring as hard as he could, staring with his mouth partly open after a habit he had when astonished. Of course he soon grasped the idea, and across his face there began to creep a broad smile. He gave Toby a grateful look, as though disposed to crown him with a laurel wreath becoming a victor.

"Just as you say, Toby, the time seems to have arrived when you fellows ought to be told the whole story," began Jack, as he settled back into an easier position. "After what you saw today, and the discovery we both made, it would be silly for me to keep you in the dark any longer. I only bound you not to bother me about it until we'd had our supper, when Steve also might hear, and so save me considerable talking.

"Well, first of all I must tell you who the lady in the case is, and how she came to pick me out as the one she thought could best help her. She is a leader in the Red Cross work, and a woman well liked by nearly everybody in Chester. Her name is Miss Priscilla Haydock!"

"Do you know," burst out Toby, "I've been thinking of her ever since you let slip that our backer wasn't a gentleman at all. Why, they say she's got stacks of money, and uses it freely for every good purpose."

"I'm not so very much surprised myself," Steve told them, composedly; "because I know Miss Haydock right well. She often visits at our house; and my folks think a heap of her. But go on, Jack."

"She sent for me one day, and I called at her house, where she told me that she had a strange job for some one to do, and somehow felt that a wideawake boy might answer a whole lot better than a man. She also said a few nice things about having watched me on the baseball field, and how folks seemed to believe I tried pretty hard to get there, whenever I had anything on my hands; but I'll omit the bouquet part of the interview.

"Coming right down to brass tacks now, Miss Haydock informed me that she owned pretty nearly all this Pontico Hills district up here. She had taken it some years back simply as an investment, and was holding it in hopes that some fine day a projected railroad would go through here, when it must become valuable property.

"Latterly she had been bothered by a nephew of hers, a man from New York City by the name of Mr. Maurice Dangerfield, who had been trying to get her to allow him to have an option on the entire strip of land, under the plea that he believed he had a customer who would purchase.

"As the price he offered was considerably more than what she had paid, Miss Haydock was almost tempted to agree. On thinking the matter over, however, she came to the conclusion not to be too hasty about deciding. She happened to know this Dangerfield was a clever individual, who had, as a rule, made his living by being smarter than most people. He told her he was in great need, and that the commission he expected to receive, should the deal go through, would save him possibly from becoming a bankrupt. He was working upon her generous nature, you see, boys; but it happened that she knew a number of things not to his credit, and so concluded to go slow about the matter.

"So she wanted me to get a couple of my chums and spend several weeks up in the Pontico Hills camping, the only provision being that we should take a lot of pictures to show her what the country looked like. And I was to keep a sharp eye out for any sign of Mr. Maurice, as well as learn, if I could, just what he was up to.

"She showed me a picture of her smart nephew, and of course as soon as Toby here described the gentleman who came into camp that day, looking so sour, I just knew it must be he.

"Now, when Toby and myself today discovered a man poking about, and using a pickax now and then, as though searching for minerals, I suspected instantly that we were on the verge of a discovery, and it turned out that way. We hid in the bushes, and I even managed to snap off the party, with his pick over his shoulder.

"When he had gone, Steve, we went over to see why he had been scratching the soil as he did, and showing so many evidences of excitement. Well, tell him what we found, Toby."

"Oil!" ejaculated Toby, theatrically, and Steve almost fell over, such was his astonishment.

"Do you mean petroleum—crude oil?" he gasped.

"Why, in some places the ground was just rank with the black-looking stuff," Toby assured him. "I sniffed it even before we got on the ground; and while I'm not wonderfully bright-witted, I didn't have the least trouble guessing what it was."

"Of course," continued Jack, "we don't know just how this Dangerfield ever got wind of the fact that the big tract of land owned by his aunt showed traces of being an oil district, because there are no such places within fifty miles of here; but he must have scented it out in some way, and then laid all his pipes so as to tie the property up under an option."

"Why, it would be well worth a million, if a cent," said Toby, "in case the wells panned out half-way decent. I've read a heap about this oil business, and how many a poor farmer who had never been able to scratch a decent living from his hundred-acre farm, woke up some fine morning to have speculators pounding on his door, and offering him all kinds of money up to the hundreds of thousands of dollars to sell out to them."

"So that's really all there is to the story," Jack went on to say. "You know as much as I do now. Dangerfield is here on the ground. He's conducting some sort of work over where we heard those explosions, and I think he must be trying to put down an experiment well, so as to convince the men he means to take into the deal with him that it means a fortune for each one of them."

"Yes," Toby went on to say, breathlessly, "and mebbe those dull shocks we heard came from their shooting the well. I understand they have to start things with a blast of dynamite, when the gusher begins to flow."

"That may be the case," Jack admitted, "though I hardly think a shrewd man like Dangerfield would go quite so far until he had actually secured the option from his aunt. It may be he feels certain she will give it to him, and is going ahead on that foundation. No matter, he certainly showed signs of being mighty well pleased at what he saw today, didn't he, Toby?"

"Just what he did, Jack, as happy as a clam at high tide," came the answer. "Why, there was one time I actually thought the gent was getting daffy, for he began to dance about like a darky boy, and slap his thigh again and again. After that he hurried away. I guess if he had any doubts lingering over, what he discovered today did for them."

"As likely as not," mused Jack, "he'll go back to Chester again, and try harder than ever to coax Aunt Priscilla to give him the option, making out that he's doomed to go to prison, and drag the family name in the dust if she refuses. But she told me she was resolved not to take a single step until she had my report."

"Then it's goodbye to all those castles in Spain that Maurice has been building on the strength of deceiving his rich aunt," chuckled Steve, as though highly amused at the way things were turning out, and proud of the part he and his chums had taken in the game.

"Are you satisfied with what you've learned so far, Jack?" Toby wanted to know with an anxious look on his face. "I certainly do hope you won't be wanting to skip out of this the very first thing, and breaking up our vacation camp before we've gotten settled down and hardly more than started enjoying it."

Jack smiled at the earnest manner of the other.

"That would be too cruel, Toby," he assured him. "If I thought it necessary that Miss Haydock should know what we've learned, why, I'd go myself and tell her, leaving you fellows here to keep camp while I was gone."

Thereupon the cloud gathering on Toby's face was suddenly dissipated, and he grinned happily again.

"Oh! I hope you won't even have to think of doing that, Jack," Steve remarked.

"I don't see any necessity just yet," Jack decided, "and unless some new and very important developments come along I think I can hold off until we all go back home. Besides, I hope to do a little more looking around, and perhaps take more pictures while I'm up here."

"I get you, Jack!" cried the alert Toby. "Chances are that you're making up your mind to drop in and see what they're doing over where those blasts came from. How about that for a guess, Jack?"

"You hit the bull's-eye plum centre that time, Steve," laughed Jack; "because while my plans are not exactly complete, I have that in mind. But we'll talk it over again. There's no particular hurry, you see, if we expect to stay here ten or twelve days longer. The more time we take to enjoy ourselves the better it would look, in case a spy was hovering about, trying to learn just what we wanted up here."

"One thing sure, Jack, I hardly think we'll be able to do much tomorrow, because all the signs point to our having wet weather," Steve went on to say, with the air of a prophet who could read the signs about as well as the head of the weather bureau at Washington.

"There is a feeling in the air that way," admitted Jack. "I've noticed it myself even if I didn't say anything about it. So I'm glad, Steve, that you proved a good provider while at home today, laying in a fine stock of firewood that ought to last us through a couple of days. It'll come in handy in case we're shut in by the rain."

"Oh! we're well fixed for anything like that, Jack," chuckled the other. "There's that dandy camp stove we fetched along, and haven't had a chance yet to try out. I made a place in the tent for it, and Mr. Whitlatch has an asbestos collar to use so that the pipe can't set fire to the canvas, no matter how red-hot it gets. Why, it would be well worth enduring a rainy spell just to see how the thing works."

"And I haven't forgotten either, Steve," spoke up Toby, "that you promised to make a fine batch of biscuits in the oven of that same camp stove the first chance you got. I want to open that bottle of honey, and have been keeping it to go on hot biscuits—of course providing they're a success."

"Now don't you worry about that," said Steve, boldly. "I took lessons from our hired girl, and she said my biscuits were mighty near as good as hers. Why, at the table they were sure enough surprised when she told Mom I'd made the bunch."

And so they chatted and laughed until it was time to turn in again.



CHAPTER XVI

STORM-BOUND

Well, it rained, just as the weather sharp had so wisely predicted.

Steve chanced to be the first to hear the drops begin to patter down on the canvas covering that sheltered them from all inclemencies of the weather. He gave a snort as he sat bolt upright and exclaimed:

"There, didn't I tell you so, fellows; listen to her come down, will you?"

"What's all this row about?" grumbled the sleepy Toby, hardly stirring.

"Why, it's raining, don't you hear?" snorted Steve, as though that might be a wonderful fact.

"Let her rain pitchforks for all I care," grunted Toby. "Lie down and go to sleep again, can't you, Steve? What do we care, when this tent is guaranteed waterproof? Besides, haven't we taken all precautions? Only old Moses will get wet, and it isn't going to hurt him any. So please go to sleep again, and leave me alone. I was having the most wonderful dream, and beating the whole crowd at skating for a wonderful prize of a pair of silver-plated skates, when you had to go and spoil the whole show. Now I'll never get those skates, that's sure."

All through the balance of that night the rain continued to come steadily down. At least it was no great storm, with accompanying wind and the crashing of thunder. When morning came it was a dismal outlook that they saw, peeping from the tent. The rain was still falling, and a leaden gray sky overhead gave promise of a hopelessly long and wet day.

Steve had fetched along a rubber coat and boots, so that one of them could go and come on errands, without getting soaked. Moses must be fed, to begin with, and there would be numerous trips to make between tent and supply wagon.

The fire was started in the little camp stove used by the photographer when he took his annual pilgrimage through the country, in search of lovely views to add to a collection he was making that would be an art treasure when he had completed it.

"Say, that works mighty fine, let me tell you!" declared Toby, when the grateful heat from the stove began to render the interior of the big tent very comfortable. "We'll have no trouble keeping as snug as three bugs in a rug, with that sheet-iron contraption to help out."

"And," added Steve, "the oven is getting hot already. I really believe I can do that baking today, boys; so make up your minds to eat some of the jolliest biscuits you ever put between your teeth. I made sure to carry all the ingredients along, barring none."

"I notice that an arrangement comes with the stove so that you can burn kerosene if wood isn't handy," remarked Jack; "which makes it all the more valuable as a camp auxiliary. Lots of times wood is out of the question, but you can get plenty of oil."

At that Steve began to chuckle.

"What strikes you as being so funny, Steve?" demanded Toby, who was amusing himself by starting breakfast on the little stove, as though not meaning to let Steve do all the cooking while on their camping trip.

"Oh! I was only thinking of that old saying about carrying coals to Newcastle, you know—which place is the head coal centre over in England. It would seem pretty much that way for fellows to lug a big can of kerosene away up here, when the ground is actually reeking with the stuff in an unrefined state. Perhaps it'd be possible to find a little pond of the same, and dip up all you'd want to use."

"One thing I'm hoping won't happen, at any rate while we're up here," Toby now went on to say, reflectively; "and that is to have the woods get afire. Whee! if that ever did happen, goodbye to Miss Priscilla's gold mine, in the way of an oil gusher bonanza; for the whole country might get ablaze."

"Not much danger of that, I guess," Jack assured him. "The traces of oil we've seen must be only seepage. The main supply is hidden far down in the earth, and until wells are sunk will stay there safe."

After all, it was very cozy there in the tent as long as the stove burned. Fortunately the rain came from another direction, so they could have the flat open, and so get a fair amount of light and air. The table could be dispensed with during the time they were thus imprisoned, for being agile boys they did not consider it much of a hardship to curl their legs under them, tailor fashion, while they discussed their breakfast.

Steve later on got out a book of travel and adventure which he had fetched along for a rainy day, but which, previously, he had not thought to look at. As the morning began to pass he lay there on his blanket and devoured the graphic account of hardships endured by some dauntless party of explorers who had sought the region of the frozen Antarctic, and come very near losing their lives while there. Now and again Steve would shiver and ask Toby if he wouldn't please drop the flap of the tent a little.

"Not much I will," protested that worthy, vigorously. "It's hot enough in here now nearly to cook a fellow, and none too light, either. Suppose you tuck away that book of the ice regions, which is what makes you shake all over when you're reading about the terrible cold they endured. Keep it for a sizzling hot day, Steve, when it'll do you good to shiver a little."

"Huh! guess I might as well," grunted the other, as though convinced. "Besides, it's getting on toward eleven, I reckon, and I really ought to be thinking of starting my baking."

"You're away off this time, Steve," laughed Jack, who had a little nickle watch along with him, though he seldom carried it on his person, "because right now it is only a quarter to ten."

"Oh! what a long day this promises to be," groaned Steve.

"Can't beat yesterday in my opinion," claimed Toby. "I actually thought the sun was nailed fast up there in the sky, because it didn't seem to move an inch."

"That's because you were on the job every second," Jack told him. "A watched pot never boils, they used to say; but of course it meant that the water seemed to take an unusual time in bubbling."

So Steve yawned, and lolled in his blanket, until finally Jack told him he might as well get busy if they expected to have a feast of camp biscuits for lunch.

It was no easy task which Steve had set himself. First of all he insisted on going out and fetching the rude table inside the tent, even if it did crowd them a trifle.

"However could you expect a chef to make biscuits, with never a table to work at?" he threw at Toby when the latter ventured to complain; and of course after that they allowed Steve to have his own way, though Toby hung around to quiz him, until the other ordered him off.

"You'll queer these delicacies if you bother me any more, Toby," he told him severely. "Our cook says you ought almost to hold your breath when making them, because it's always easy for them to drop. Mebbe she was joshing me, but I don't want to be bothered and forget to put the baking powder or the salt in."

Toby kept a roaring fire going, and finally the pan of biscuits was popped into the oven. Steve looked a bit anxious, realizing that his reputation as a cook was now at stake.

"Since we've got this table inside here," spoke up Jack, "we might as well make all the use of it we can, chucking it out again in the rain when supper is over. Here's a box one can sit on, and we'll rig up seats for the others somehow."

"Hurrah!" cried Steve, on hearing this. "That gives my legs a chance to keep out of snarls. I never could curl up like some fellows. But I wonder how they're coming on inside the oven?"

"What, your legs?" exclaimed Toby, jeeringly; "why, I didn't know we were going to be treated to roast mutton today, did you, Jack?"

Steve took a peep.

"Believe me, they're beginning to turn a light brown already; and say, they look as light as any Mary Ann ever made at our house," was his joyous announcement.

He seemed to act as though the fate of nations depended on the successful issue of his first camp baking. Indeed, Toby was secretly almost as much concerned as Steve, for he dearly loved hot biscuits, and counted himself a pretty good judge of them.

To dismiss the subject, it may be said that Steve's experiment turned out to be a success. Jack congratulated him on making such dainty biscuits; while Toby declared that the proof of the pudding lay in the eating; and the fact that he was making such desperate inroads on the stack that graced the dish in the center of the table showed his appreciation.

So Steve was made very happy, and readily promised that there would be no lack of fresh bread while the stock of flour held out, and that dandy little stove was in working order.

The afternoon proved terribly long to all of them. Sometimes they would take turns at dozing, for the patter of the rain among the leaves, and on the canvas above their heads, made a sort of lullaby that induced sleep. Several times the rain would die out for a short time, only to make a fresh start again after exciting false hopes.

"Well," observed Jack, as evening drew on apace, "we might have been a whole lot worse off. The tent hasn't leaked a drop, that I've noticed; and thanks to the stove we've been comfortable enough. Let's hope it'll rain itself out during the night, and give us a chance to get moving tomorrow."

This did not prove to be the case, for it turned out to be one of those easterly storms that usually last the better part of three days, with almost a constant downpour, though not very heavy at any time.

When another day came, it was still dark and gloomy, though not raining just then. They managed to get a chance to stretch themselves outside before it set in again. Steve was the one who did most of the complaining, though Toby grumbled quite a bit also.

Along toward noon, it brightened up some. Toby even declared with bated breath that he fancied he glimpsed a tiny patch of blue sky, "large enough to make a pair of trousers."

"But the signs all show that it's clearing off," observed Steve, exultantly, fixing his weather-sharp eye on the aforesaid patch of azure sky. "You know the old saying is, 'Between eleven and two it'll tell you what it's going to do,' so I'm counting on our having a decent afternoon of it."

His prediction proved to be correct. The clouds began to part, and at exactly noon, according to Jack's watch, the sun looked out from behind the dark curtains that had hidden his genial face for so long a spell.

"It'll take the whole afternoon for the woods to get decently dry again," Jack was saying just then; "so we'll have to keep quiet for a little spell. But I've got a scheme on foot that will take two of us away all of tomorrow, and perhaps the day afterwards, leaving one to guard the camp. And you two fellows must toss up to see who goes, and who stays."



CHAPTER XVII

THE PROSPECTORS

"Well, for one, I don't want to be kept in suspense so long," Toby began; "and I move we settle that question right away, Steve, by drawing straws."

"After all, it had better be you who goes with Jack, Toby," the other generously went on to say. "To tell you the truth I'm a little afraid that heel of mine hasn't just given up the fight yet, and a very long tramp just now might make it hurt again like sixty."

"No, that wouldn't be fair," urged Toby, doggedly. "You've got to take your chance at it. If I do go I want to feel that I'm not cheating you out of your opportunity. I like to have a clean conscience. Here, Jack, you hold the straws. The one who gets the shorter stays behind; that's understood. And Steve shall draw first, because I picked the straws."

Evidently, there could hardly be a more conscientious boy that Toby Hopkins, for he was always looking out for the rights of the other fellow. That was the main reason why Jack Winters had chosen him for one of his closest chums. He knew he could depend on Toby to do the right thing every time.

Well, Steve had the nerve deliberately to draw the short straw. He grinned when he discovered what luck he had had, as though not so very much displeased after all.

"That settles it right, Toby," he went on to say, pleasantly. "'Course it'll seem like an everlastingly long time while I'm loafing here, but my heel is going to have a fair chance to get well. Then I've got that bully book, which I can enjoy if the weather gets real warm, so I won't shiver at descriptions of the terrible times they had when nearly freezing to death in the ice packs. Oh! don't look like you pitied me; I'm just as well satisfied it worked out that way."

They did a good many things that afternoon. Jack got his camera in order for further work, because, of course, he meant to carry it along with him.

"Will you want to take the gun, too?" asked Steve, with a touch of solicitude in his manner; for he rather counted on having the firearm with him in camp, as a sort of protection that would serve to ease his mind; because it would be a pretty lonely night of it.

"No, we'll leave that for you, Steve," said Jack, immediately, as though all that had been settled in his mind.

"How about your meals?" Steve now asked. "If you expect to be gone over night, it'll mean that three or four times you'll want to break your fast. What sort of grub do you mean to carry along with you that doesn't need cooking; for I take it you'll hardly expect to make a fire, for fear of being discovered?"

"You're right about the fire part of it, Steve," Jack informed him; "as for our food, I've arranged all that. You see, we fetched along a number of things that will come in handy for such a trip. In the first place, we'll carry a lot of sweet chocolate; that always sustains a fellow when he's weak from hunger. Then there's that big hunk of fine dried beef, which I'm particularly fond of, and can eat just as I cut it from the strip."

"The Indians always used to carry pemmican along with them, to munch on when going into the enemy's country where a fire would endanger their lives," announced Toby. "And this modern dried beef is something like the venison they smoked and cured until it was fairly black. They say a redskin could travel all day on just a handful of maize or corn, and as much pemmican; stopping to quench his thirst at some running stream or spring."

"There are several other things we have with us that we can carry to help out in the food line," Jack continued. "You must know that they have malted milk that only needs water to make a splendid and nourishing drink. Besides, there is desiccated egg in the shape of powder that is the real thing preserved. I have also several tins of soup that I can heat up day or night without a trace of fire."

"That's a queer thing, Jack," spoke up Toby; "tell us how the thing is done, won't you please?"

Jack stepped over to the supply wagon and soon returned bearing one of the tins in question, which Toby noticed now was a trifle more bulky than others that he remembered seeing containing prepared soups.

"This is quite a clever idea," proceeded Jack. "You see, it consists of really two cans, one inside the other. The narrow space between is filled with unslacked lime. When you feel like having a meal, all you have to do is to punch a hole close to the edge on top, and pour in some cold water. This immediately makes the lime furiously hot, and in a short time you can open the main can and your soup is almost scalding. I tried one can at home, and it worked to a charm. My dad was quite tickled with it, and said they never had such splendid things when he was young and used to go off into the woods on camping or surveying trips."

"Oh! I see we're not going to starve yet awhile, even if we can't have a nice pot of coffee while on the job," laughed the pleased Toby, handling the wonderfully self-heating can of vegetable soup almost reverently.