battle to be fought somewhere in the woods beyond camp lines, a battle
with fists for the mastery, and they were strongly disposed to follow
their captain as he started up the river.

"Stop," cried Sam. "I have business with Jake, which will not interest
you. Besides, I think it best that you shall remain here. Go to the
spring, as I tell you, and then go back to the fire, and get
breakfast. Jake and I will be there in time to help you eat it. If one
of you follows me a foot of the way, I--never mind; I tell you you
must not follow me, and you shall not."

There were some symptoms of a turbulent, but good-natured revolt, but
Sam's earnestness quieted it, and the boys reluctantly drew back.

Passing around to the further side of the drift-pile, more than a
hundred yards away from the nearest point of the camp, Sam called in a
low tone:--

"Jake! Jake!"

"What is it?" asked Jake presently, trembling in voice as he trembled
in limb, for he was now thoroughly broken and frightened. He dreaded
the meeting with Sam nearly as much as he dreaded the terrible fate
which seemed to him the only alternative, namely, that of remaining in
the drift-pile to starve.

"Come down this way," said Sam.

"Well," answered Jake when he had moved a little way toward Sam.