"But it may come back, after smelting of my fine trout," Bumpus
observed, seriously; "and rather than run any chance, I think I'll have
to sit up, and play sentry the balance of the night."

"Joke!" chuckled Giraffe, chuckling again.

"Huh! mebbe, now, you think I couldn't do that same?" remonstrated
Bumpus. "I know I'm a good sound sleeper, which fact I can't deny;
but then there's such a thing as rising to an occasion, you see."

"Yes," scoffed the tall scout, "if we depended on you staying awake,
chances are we'd have no trout for breakfast to-morrow morning."

"No need of anything like that," remarked the scout-master; "because we
can fix it so that no wildcat could get that fish, let him try as hard
as he wants. Just you leave it with me, Bumpus, and I'll guarantee that
we have fish for breakfast, and without anybody having to stay up
either, or lose another minute's sleep."

He tied a cord to the dangling trout, once more placed where it had been
before, and then announced that he meant to fasten the other end to his
arm. If anything pulled at the fish it would telegraph the fact down to
him; and as Thad took the double-barreled shotgun to bed with him, and
occupied the place Rumpus had vacated, they understood what the answer
was going to be should he be aroused.

But evidently the beast thought discretion the better part of valor, for
he did not come aboard again that night. Possibly the shouts, and the
whooping of the boys had given him all the excitement he could stand.