open. The owl would whinny or hoot according to his species; the loon
send forth his agonizing and weird shriek from some distant lake; a fox
might bark sharply and fretfully, or two quarrelsome 'coons dispute over
a bit of food they had discovered--all this went with the camping
business, and indeed it would have seemed odd to those boys had the
usual accompaniment been missing.

"Well, what's the use of our staying up longer?" Max finally announced
in an authoritative fashion, after Steve had almost jerked his neck awry
for about the seventh time, with one of those spasmodic movements. "Our
blankets are calling to us, boys; let's turn in."

There was no negative vote recorded, for every one seemed ready to call
it a day, and quit. Max took it upon himself to look after the fire.
Plenty of wood had been gathered to last until morning, and then some;
for, as the night air was beginning to feel pretty sharp, it was
concluded to keep the fire going.

"I'll look out for that part," said Max. "I generally wake up just so
many times during the night when I'm in camp, and it's no trouble for me
to crawl out and toss another stick on the fire. So forget it, fellows,
will you?"

Apparently the others took him at his word, for not another sign of any
of them was seen while night lasted. Once they snuggled down in their
warm comfortable blankets, they must have become "dead to the world," as
Steve aptly termed it.

Several times while the night held sway a figure would crawl noiselessly
out of the crude brush shanty shelter, and place another lot of wood