"Come, Vic Burleigh, help me to start this fire for supper,"
Dennie Saxon called. "We won't get our coffee and ham and eggs
ready before midnight."

"Here, Trench, or some of you fellows, get busy," Vic called back to the big
right guard of the Sunrise football squad. "Elinor and I are going to climb
the west bluff to see what's the matter with the sun. It looks sick.
I've been hired man all day; carried nineteen girls across the shallows,
packed all the lunch-baskets, toted all the wood, built all the fires,
washed all the dishes--"

"Ate all the dinner, drank all the grape juice, stepped on all the
custard pies, upset all the cream bottles. Oh, you piker, get out!"
Trench aimed an empty lunch-basket at Vic's head with the words.

Being a chaperon was a pleasant office to Professor Burgess today but for the
task of throwing a barrier about Elinor every time Vic Burleigh came near.
And Burleigh, lacking many other things more than insight, kept him busy
at barrier building.

"Miss Wream, you can't think of climbing that rough place,"
Burgess protested, with a sharp glance of resentment at the big
young fellow who dared to call her Elinor.

The tiger-light blazed in the eyes that flashed back at him,
as Vic cried daringly.

"Oh, come on, Elinor; be a good Indian!"