"Perhaps. But that won't be for long, let me tell you. I'm bound to show
you everything I know about these things, and pick up more myself in the
bargain. Did you get the boats hidden away all right, Bandy-legs?"

"Gilt-edge, I give you my word. And we tied some of the reeds together near
the spot. Only a feller who was lookin' for the tag'd notice where we did
it. Toby or me, why we could go straight to the spot, with only one eye
open."

"All right. Then suppose you get busy helping Steve and Owen. Nobody must
step back here again to leave fresh tracks after I've rubbed these all
out."

Max continued to work as steadily as a beaver. Step by step he retreated
backward, removing all traces left by the campers.

It was an arduous task, especially when he came to where the tent and fire
had stood. But really the boy proved to have a natural talent for this sort
of thing. He utterly removed all the ashes, scattered some brush over the
spot, and at the end of an hour Max stood on the border of the dense woods
casting a last careful look over the field of his recent labors.

"I ought to pat myself on the back over that job," he chuckled; "and it
wouldn't be throwing any bouquets either. Ten to one Ted Shafter and his
gang could land here, cook a meal, and lie around, without ever once
dreaming we'd spent a night on the same camp ground."

Then he withdrew from the scene of his recent operations.

Picking his way through the woods, after a time he heard voices, and then