"We'll manage that part of the programme all right, never fear, Bandy-legs.
Pretty near time for the boys to be showing up, ain't it? Hey! something's
boiling over and trying to put out the fire."

With a whoop Bandy-legs made a wild dash for his station, and apparently
managed to "save his bacon," as Max called out, laughingly.

Presently the sound of voices told that the rest of the camping party had
arrived.

Each of them seemed to be carrying something of a load on his back.

The catch was heaped in a pile, and Bandy-legs left his fire long enough to
admire the product of the morning "wading act."

"Get ready for dinner, you fellows," he remarked, with a trace of anxiety
in his voice.

The rude table was set with the usual tin cups, pie pans for plates,
knives, forks, and spoons. In addition there was a pile of bread, some
cheese and crackers, part of a boiled ham, a mess of cold rice left over
from the previous day, and a dish of hot Boston baked beans.

"Bring on the coffee," sang out Steve, sitting down.

"S-s-say, what you got in the p-p-pot?" demanded Toby, suspiciously.

"A surprise," grinned Bandy-legs.

He filled four bowls with something from the pot and set them before his