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Spluttering and coughing he sat up and saw that the campfire was out and the campsite was already six inches deep in water. "Roger, Astro!" he called and slapped the nearest sleeping bag. Astro opened the flap a little and peered out sleepily. Instantly he rolled out of the bag and jumped to his feet. "Wake Roger up!" he snapped. "We've got to get out of here!" "What's the matter?"
The rubber band that held the inner package together fell apart as she placed a finger on it to remove it. The eyes of the party were instantly centered on Grace Harlowe, who carefully unfolded the paper and held it down so that the light from the campfire might shine on it. "It is a map," she said. "It is a map, drawn with pen and ink.
"I'll tell you what I think," the detective went on, "and that is that you boys have been out after that Wagner kid. I believe he's going into the camp with your chum right this minute. Anyway, I'll take you in and find out about it." As the two advanced toward the campfire they watched in vain for the two figures which had gone on ahead.
A larger fire was built. The boys rigged a clothes line about the campfire and assisted the girls to hang up the wet bedding. By this time the lads were hungry. They readily accepted the invitation of the Meadow-Brook Girls to sit down with them to breakfast.
They had come prepared to camp for the night at the print shop, going through special incantations for the occasion, but now they were whooping it up around the campfire. I was dragged into the dance and went careening around with old warriors and young bucks, the squaws laughing at my mistakes. As a farewell editorial I quoted the epitaph once engraved on a tombstone: "He done his damnedest.
Nev' will sleep in my duds again, puss. That is, when I have a reg'lar human bed. Course camping, different. But still Let's see all the funny things we can do to us." He shaved two complete shaves, from lather to towel. He brushed his hair. He sat down by a campfire sheltered between two rocks, and fought his nails, though they were discouragingly crammed with motor grease.
The white-birch, paper-birch, canoe-birch, grows large in moist spots near the stream where it is needed. Seen by the flicker of a campfire at night, they surround the intrusive traveller like ghosts of giant sentinels. Once, Indian tribes with names that "nobody can speak and nobody can spell" roamed these forests.
Pan had expected this, and had fortified himself against the inevitable. "Well, get it over then once and for all," he replied, not too civilly. "You come damn near buttin' right into the weddin'!" ejaculated Smith, with a sense of what dramatic possibility had just been missed. Pan, whose back had been turned to the campfire light, suddenly whirled as if on a pivot. "What?" he cried.
The whole company were greatly agitated because an Indian possessed with the spirit of self-importance had gone to Washington to make war against other Indians in the tribe who were industrious and loyal home builders. They all made speeches around the campfire, asking my interposition at Washington.
Once when the trees obscured it I traveled some distance without getting a good view of it. Passing down into a little hollow I lost it again. When I climbed out I hauled up short with a sharp catch of my breath. There were several figures moving around the campfire. I had stumbled on a camp that surely was not Dick Leslie's. The ground was as soft as velvet, and my footsteps gave forth no sound.
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