in camp, especially when the weather gets bad, and everything else seems
to go wrong. Even Bandy-legs took on a more cheerful air, and brightened
up after hearing Max say this. They had more or less reason to feel
proud of the record they had made in the past, so far as accomplishing
things went. And the people around Carson would be apt to tell any one
inquiring about Max and his cronies that they had actually done several
exceedingly smart things, and were boys far above the average.

The supper was voted a huge success, and never had fish been fried a
more delicious brown than those in the pan. Perhaps Steve entertained a
private opinion of his own, to the effect that never had a higher price
been paid for a mess of fish than he offered up when he found himself
made a prisoner of the unseen giant residing under the quicksands; but
all the same, Steve devoured his share of the fish as smartly as the
next one. He doubtless felt that he deserved having a feast, after his
adventure in supplying the materials.

They were almost through eating, and feeling particularly well
satisfied, as is usually the case, when the appetite has been taken care
of, when Toby Jucklin was seen to be staring straight ahead.

"What ails you, Toby?" demanded Steve, discovering the mysterious
actions of the other. "Think you see a ghost; or was it a 'coon whisked
past, smelling our fine spread here? Speak up, can't you, and tell us?"

Toby managed to find his tongue, and as usual when excited made quite a
mess of his explanation.

"W-w-why, y-y-you s-s-see, I--t-that is, there's s-s-somebody--oh! look
for yourselves and you'll understand quicker'n I c'n tell you!"