It had taken them from early morning to nearly dusk to cover these
fifteen-odd miles; but now that the camp was established, the tent up, the
fire crackling, and supper being prepared, they forgot their tired backs
and muscles.

"Hey, Max!" called out Bandy-legs, turning around from where he was
attending to the bubbling coffee.

"What is it?" asked the other, who had managed to arrange a temporary rude
table, a slab of wood having been brought along for the purpose. "You
forgot to tell us about it, don't you know?" the other went on. "Somehow,
all the excitement about that silly kid in the bushes knocked it clean out
of my head."

"It did now, f-f-for a fact," spoke up Toby. "So t-t-tell us what the
p-p-p-p"--whistle--"prospects are, won't you?"

Max and his cousin exchanged a quick look, after which the former placed a
finger on his lips.

"Wait a little, Toby," he said, cautiously. "When we gather around the
festive board, and get our heads close together, I've got some bully good
news to tell the bunch of you."

"H-h-hear that, will you, boys?" remarked Toby, in more or less excitement.

"Say no more now, please. How about that coffee?" Max continued.

"S-s-she's cooked to a turn, and I h-h-hope the rest of the g-g-grub is
ready, too."