Max before he could empty the kettle. "Here's the water-bucket; use
that."

And Max did so, drenching poor dancing Bandy-legs from head to foot with
the contents of the pail.

"That's the time Bandy-legs came near getting more than his share of the
grub," declared Owen, who was busily engaged stamping out some of
the smoldering brands that had been scattered around so promiscuously
when the sprawling figure of the boy landed in their midst.

"Somebody carry that old skin outside," said Trapper Jim. "It's burning
more or less, and we'll have the cabin so full of smell we won't be able
to stay in it much longer."

Toby volunteered to do this, although he had to handle the thing
carefully so as not to get burned.

"I'll go after another bucket of water," remarked Max; "and I'd advise
our practical joker here to jump out of those wet duds and get into some
dry ones in a hurry."

Bandy-legs, looking disgusted and rather silly, was beginning to shiver,
as the door, which now stood open to ventilate the cabin, allowed the
chilly air of approaching evening to enter.

"Guess I will," he remarked; "'cause I've got that wood to gather."

"You bet you have," declared Steve; "we don't let you off from that job.
And when you've got your hand in, we'll expect you to take care of the