critter pick out a boat belongin' to somebody else? Seems like
everything has a spite against just me."

"Well, of course, I can't tell you that," remarked Max. "If you want to
know you'll have to ask the 'coon. Perhaps you may have dropped a small
piece of food in your boat; and as he came prowling around, not very
much afraid of us here, he got track of the same, and was hunting for it
when you had to disturb him."

"I don't wonder he sniffed in your face when you poked your head in
there," declared Steve. "Nobody likes to be bothered when they're
eating. Just try taking a bone away from a hungry dog or cat, once, and
see. He thought you a busybody, that's what, Bandy-legs. But he's gone
now, if so be you want to investigate, and find out whether the 'coon
chawed another hole in your canoe."

But Bandy-legs only threw himself down by the fire.

His air was that of one who was determined not to be easily lured away
from so comfortable a place until it was time to go to bed. They could
see that Bandy-legs was really becoming quite worked up over the queer
way a fickle fortune seemed to be showering little adventures on his
shoulders, while the rest went scot free.

"Ain't we goin' to stand guard to-night, fellers?" he asked later on;
showing how the subject stuck in his mind.

"Guard over what?" asked Steve.

"Why, that critter is bent on stealing every bit of our grub, and we