"Oh! somewhere around here," Max replied. "You see we've got a big job
ourselves, taking down the tent, putting it up again some distance away
from the water, removing every sign of our having camped here, and then
disappearing. You'll be back long before we're done."

His prediction was fulfilled, for when half an hour later Toby and his
companion showed up, the tent had vanished, Steve and Owen were carrying
blankets, food, and cooking utensils deeper into the woods, while Max was
working like a beaver close to the water's edge.

"What's going on now, Max?" asked Bandy-legs, as he watched the actions of
his chum.

"I'm doing my best to wipe out all the 'sign' we've made around here,"
replied Max.

"And it looks to me like you're doing a good job of it, too, partner,"
declared the other, his eyes filled with admiration, as he saw how deftly
Max smoothed out all traces of where the boats had been pulled up on the
pebbly shore of the river.

"Oh, well, I'm only a greenhorn at this sort of thing," laughed the busy
worker, patting a telltale footprint until it was merged with the
surrounding soil; "I'd be reckoned a bungler by any experienced woodsman,
you know. But in this case it's an easy job to pull the wool over the eyes
of Ted and his crowd."

"Meaning that they're about as ignorant of all these things as I am?"
Bandy-legs went on.