Giraffe spent fully half an hour, if not longer, that afternoon, making ample preparations for his anticipated building of the camp-fire that night, after supper had been disposed of.

He had his busy jack-knife at work laying in a store of shavings that would flare up in a jiffy, and set the next-sized kindling to going; when by degrees the larger logs would take fire under the fierce heat. Thad kept an eye on him, and others were a bit worried lest the boy who just doted on building fires overdo the matter, and set the forest ablaze.

“Why, you’ve already got twice too much tinder, Giraffe,” remonstrated Davy Jones, as he saw the boy with the knife start in again to cut more.

“Do for starting the fire in the morning then,” replied Giraffe. “Must be doing something all the time, you know; and I don’t enjoy anything half so much as making whittlings for a blaze. You go along with your silly pictures, Davy, and let me alone. Thad’s keeping an eye on me, all right. And I haven’t got a single match about me, you know.”

Supper was finally in preparation. The bass had been neatly cleaned by those who had caught them, Step-hen and Smithy; and for the first time in his life no doubt, the pampered son of the rich widow found himself doing the work of a cook’s helper. Whether he fancied it or not, Step-hen declared that he did his work neatly, and fairly fast; which compliment made Smithy’s light blue eyes shine with real pleasure. He had entered into a new life, and was evidently resolved to pursue it further, taking the bitter with the sweet.

But of course the fish did not constitute the only food they had. Healthy appetites like those possessed by the eight scouts could not fare on fish alone. Thad, for instance, cared very little for fresh water bass, though fond of catching them. And he saw to it that a large can of corned beef was opened, together with one containing succotash, out of which he constructed a savory dish which he called the canoeists’ stew.

Then besides they had stewed prunes, together with a kettle of boiled rice, over which those who preferred it could sprinkle sugar, and wet down with the evaporated cream which was carried in sealed tins.

Given the voracious appetites which healthy boys usually carry along with them into camp, and it was amazing how this mess vanished. And Giraffe, as he scraped the kettle that had contained the stew, remarked that the only mistake made on the trip had been in providing too small cooking utensils.

“Make your mind easy, Giraffe,” said Davy; “next time we’ll fetch along all our mothers’ preserving kettles. Fact is, there must be times when even a wash boiler looks about the regulation size, to you!”

“That’s mean of you, Davy,” remarked Giraffe, when he could make himself heard above the roars of laughter. “Just because I happen to have a better appetite than the rest of you, is no reason you should keep on joking a feller about it. You eat twice as much as Smithy here, and yet you think that’s nothing. Well, I happen to be able to go a little further than you, that’s all. Nothing to be ashamed of, is it, Thad?”

“Oh! the boys must have their fun, Giraffe; and if you’re wise you’ll laugh with them,” Thad remarked. “When they find it doesn’t bother you, the chances are they’ll quit quizzing you on your eating ability. Doctor Philander said that the only danger lay in your putting to great a strain on your digestive powers.”

“Well, Doctor Philander ain’t here, and we seem to be getting along O. K. without a regular scout-master, too,” remarked Davy Jones. “I wouldn’t care if business kept on chaining him to town whenever the Silver Fox Patrol has a chance to camp out. Thad, here, keeps us subdued just about right.”

The bear had not been forgotten at meal times. Thad saw to it that there was enough food given to the animal to satisfy its hunger; though Giraffe always complained that it was just ruinous the way that animal did eat into their supplies.

“Lucky you laid in an extra amount, Thad,” he remarked that same evening, as he saw the captive make way with all that was placed before him. “Guess you must have had an idea we’d have company up here.”

“Why, no, the boys warned me that the fresh air might sharpen up some of our appetites,” replied Thad; “and I guess it has.”

“That’s just it,” said Giraffe, quickly; “and I can’t be held responsible for what this ozone does, can I, Thad? Why, ever since we started, I’ve just got an empty feeling down there, like the bottom had dropped out. Half an hour after I fill up, I’m hungry again. It’s an awful feeling, let me tell you.”

“I was just wondering,” said Thad, “if those two foreigners who own this beast will ever show up to reclaim him.”

“My stars! I hope so,” remarked the other, looking horrified at the very thought of keeping Bruin much longer. “But what can we do to let ’em know we’ve got their old hairy exhibit eating us out of house and home?”

“Nothing that I know of,” laughed Thad, “No use advertising, because papers don’t circulate through the wilderness; and those ignorant foreigners couldn’t read the notice if we put one in. And we can’t find where to stick the message even if we printed one in picture writing, as Allan had shown us the Indians do. Guess after all we’ll just have to take pot luck, Giraffe.”

“That means, I reckon, that we’ll just have to keep on stuffing our good grub down the throat of this silly old bear, until his owners happen along. Tough luck, Thad! Why, oh! why did the beast ever smell us out in the beginning?”

“Oh! the odor of our supper cooking must have done that,” Thad went on to say. “If you were almost starved, and got on the track of onions frying, wouldn’t you make a bee-line for that camp-fire, and beg to share the meal? That’s what he did, came walking in, and in his clumsy way tried to dance himself into our good graces. But the hour was late, and we all made a break for the branches of the trees. I’ll never remember that without laughing. It was sure the funniest sight ever.”

“There’s Step-hen,” Giraffe had gone on to remark, “always talking about that uncle of his who lives out somewhere in the wild and woolly west; he says he expects to pay him a visit some day, and brags about how he’ll have a chance to bag his grizzly bear then; but excuse me, if a grizzly can eat any more than this tame one; I wouldn’t bag him for a gift.”

“Oh! you mistake his meaning,” chuckled Thad, “When he speaks of bagging a bear he means shooting him and bringing him to bag, not capturing one. The man doesn’t live who would try to capture such a monster, single-handed.”

“Have you ever shot one, Thad?”

“Well, hardly, seeing that I’ve never lived where they grew grizzlies; but the time might come when I would have the chance. I’d like to be able to say I had brought such a fierce beast down. But I want to get back, and keep an eye on that fire you’ve built. It’s sure a wonder, only I wouldn’t throw any more wood on it for a long time. Those flames shoot up pretty high, right now.”

“Oh! it’s just glorious!” declared the young fire worshipper; “and I don’t see how I’m ever going to get to sleep to-night for tinkering with it. When I can attend a fire I seem to thrill all over. Funny, ain’t it, Thad, how it affects me? My folks say they’ll have to send me to the city, and make a fireman out of me.”

“Well, if they asked my advice,” remarked the other, “I’d say you ought to be put on a railroad engine to stoke. Inside of a month you’d be so sick of making fires you’d never want to try it again as long as you lived.”

“Hey! don’t you go to putting them up to that dodge, then,” remarked Giraffe, in sudden alarm, “because I don’t want to get an overdose of making fires. Just now it’s a passion with me. I love to sit, and stare into the blaze, because I can see all sorts of things there. Why, Thad, honest now, they talk to me just like that silly old Injun picture writin’ does to Allan. I read stories in the fires I make.”

“Well,” remarked Thad, drily; “we’ll make sure then, that this camp-fire dies out before we go to our blankets; because I’m bound to know just where you are, Giraffe. And now that the bear has finished his supper, and is begging for more, let’s go over to the rest of the boys again.”

“Yes, for goodness sake let’s get away from here,” the other scout said. “Somehow or other I just know that beast feels a grudge against me. There’s Bumpus, as choice a morsel as you’d like to see; yet it’s always me the bear is watching. I sometimes believe that if he did get loose, he’d be mean enough to try and make a meal off me.”

“Well, if he can understand English, or even the actions of human beings, you’d admit he’s had good cause for disliking you,” chuckled Thad; “because all along you’ve put up quite a good-sized objection against our wasting any more food on him. And animals can tell who their friends are, you understand.”

“Is that really so?” Giraffe remarked, uneasily; “then me for a tree if ever he does break that chain. And I’m going to keep a way open under the edge of the tent, so I can slide out while he’s searching among the lot for me. If I had a gun along. Thad, we might enjoy bear steak on this trip yet.”

“Pretty tough eating, believe me; and I’m just as well pleased that you have no rifle,” with which Thad threw himself down by the roaring fire, the heat of which felt good, since with the coming of night the air had become quite chilly.

Giraffe soon fell back on his shaving occupation again. Allan was telling stories about the Maine woods, and enthusing his hearers, so that even Smithy was heard to declare that he hoped they would some day have a chance to visit that country, to see for themselves if it was as fine as Allan pictured.

“I hope it will be in the early fall, then,” remarked Allan; “because then you would be in time for the late fishing, and the opening of the deer season. That’s the best time for going up into the Maine woods.”

Davy Jones, who had gone down to the edge of the lake to listen to the bass jumping as they fed upon some smaller species of fish, as frequently happens at night time, came hurrying back to the fire just then, his face filled with excitement. Thad saw at once that something must have occurred to give the scout a shock; and he wondered whether it could have anything to do with the mystery of the boat, and those footprints over on the island.

“The ghost walked, fellers!” exclaimed Davy, as he caught his breath again.

“What’s all that silly talk mean, Davy?” demanded the scout-master.

“Well, he’s been prowling around with a lantern, all right, lookin’ for something; I give you my word I saw it, Thad,” Davy declared, crossing his heart, boy fashion.

“Where was all this happening?” pursued Thad.

“Why, over there on the island!” answered Davy, positively.