Oakdale Boys in Camp. Scott Morgan

out close to the water. There’s something jumping in the water, and I think it must be fish. You know all about fish, so cuc-come out and tell me if I’m right.”

      Piper hesitated and grumbled, but the others urged him to go.

      “We want to know if there’s fish araound here,” said Crane, “for if there is mebbe we can ketch a mess for breakfast. Go on aout, Sleuth, and see.”

      His vanity thus appealed to, Piper issued forth, crossed the patch of light made by the reawakened fire and disappeared beyond, calling to Springer. Barely had Sleuth disappeared when Crane hastily found a lard pail in which various articles had been brought along, dumped the contents, warned the wondering Grant and Stone to keep still, and passed round to the rear of the tent, as the sound of his footsteps betokened. It was not long ere he was back, bringing the pail with the cover securely in place.

      “Git holt of the mouth of that sleepin’ bag, you fellers,” he hissed. “Hurry up, before Sleuthy returns.”

      “What are you up to, anyhow?” questioned Stone cautiously.

      “Never yeou mind. Don’t waste time askin’ questions naow. There’s going to be something doing after Piper crawls into this old bag.”

      They held the mouth open for him, and, removing the cover from the pail, he dumped its contents inside the sack, chuckling all the while.

      “What the dickens – ” began Stone.

      “A good big dip right aout of the middle of that ants’ nest,” snickered Sile. “Them little black bugs can nip like sin, and they’ll have Sleuthy squirmin’ some in no time. Shake ’em daown to the bottom – that’s right. Naow spread it aout jest as he left it. Don’t give it away to him, but jest wait for the circus to commence after he pokes himself away into that thing.”

      He began undressing, whistling at the same time, and soon Piper and Springer were heard returning from the point, engaged in an argument as to whether or not they had seen fish “breaking” in the water.

      “Never mind,” said Grant, as they entered; “I reckon we’ll find out in the morning whether or not there are fish around here. Hustle up, everybody, and turn in. I’m all ready, and don’t fancy having you gents fussing and growling and keeping me awake.”

      Ere Piper had undressed to his underclothes, which were of the athletic variety and in which he proposed to sleep, all save Crane had wrapped themselves in blankets and rolled on to the bed of balsam boughs, the fragrance of which pervaded the entire tent.

      “Git in, Sleuth, so I can put aout the light,” urged Sile. “Got yeour old gun all ready, ain’t ye? Be sure to keep off cougars, and don’t let anything git into the tent to bite ye in the night.”

      Piper somewhat laboriously and bungingly stowed himself into the bag feet first, Crane snickering in spite of himself as he watched the performance, while more than one of the blanket-wrapped bodies on the boughs quivered suspiciously.

      “What are you laughing at?” demanded Sleuth resentfully, as he pulled the top of the bag up around his shoulders. “Perhaps you think this isn’t comfortable, but I want you to understand it is. I’ll get more real good solid satisfaction out of this bag tonight than you will on your old bough bed.”

      “I was jest thinkin’,” returned Crane, “that it might be kind of hot inside that thing this time of year. When I git too hot in the night it sets me to scratchin’ something awful – makes me itch, like things was bitin’ me.”

      “You’d better have your bed examined,” sneered Sleuth pointedly. “I’m never troubled that way.”

      “Haow do you hitch this thing up raound yeour neck?” asked Sile, examining the top of the bag. “I should think yeou’d want it fastened, so yeour shoulders wouldn’t stick aout. I see haow it’s done, but it must be consarned awkward to fasten it from the inside. I’ll do it for ye.”

      In spite of Sleuth’s protest that he did not want the top fastened too tightly, the joker slyly drew it close and made it secure. This done, he lost little time in folding his blanket round him, extinguishing the light and rolling on to the boughs, where, like the others, he eagerly awaited developments.

      Save for the mournful peeping of a tree-toad in a near-by thicket and the occasional crackling of the fire, the light of which flickered on the tent and shone through the narrow opening in front, a profound silence settled for a time over the camp. It was not long, however, before the waiting boys heard Piper moving a bit restlessly in the bag, and in a short time the sound of these movements became more distinct, seeming to indicate that Sleuth was squirming about uneasily. Springer turned a snicker into a poor imitation of a snore, and Crane poked him sharply in the ribs. Almost immediately Piper was heard scratching himself vigorously.

      “Drat it!” he whispered to himself; and Springer’s body shook convulsively.

      Following this, the boy in the bag began jumping and twisting about, and several smothered slaps were heard.

      “Hey, what’s the matter with yeou, Sleuthy?” mumbled Crane in a pretended tone of sleepiness. “Why don’t yeou keep still? Haow do yeou s’pose anybody is goin’ to sleep with yeou kickin’ up all that rumpus? Ain’t yeour old sleepin’ bag comfortable?”

      “Sure, it is,” answered Piper; “only there was a hubble under me like a stone. Gee whiz! I didn’t know it was so hot tonight.”

      “Dud-dud-dry up!” growled Springer. “If you keep talking you’ll gug-get me wide awake, and I’ll never go to sleep. Lie still, Sleuth.”

      “I’m comfortable now,” assured Piper. “It’s all right.”

      But barely had he uttered these words when he gave a tremendous jerk and resumed his scratching more vigorously than ever.

      “Guess you were right, Sile,” he finally admitted; “these sleeping bags are hot things. Don’t know what makes me itch so. Oh, gee! feels like something was nipping me.”

      “Will you never keep still, Sleuth?” exclaimed Grant.

      “I’m sorry,” said Piper, struggling to sit up; “but something is stinging me like a lot of nettles. Oh, great smoke! it’s fierce. Say, Sile, won’t you unfasten this old bag? I can’t seem to get out of the thing.”

      “No, I won’t unfasten it,” returned Crane in pretended exasperation; “but if yeou don’t lay daown and keep still I’ll hit yeou with a boot or something.”

      “I can’t lie down,” protested Sleuth, rapidly becoming frantic. “I tell you something is chewing me up to beat the band. I can feel things crawling on me.”

      “It must be all imagination,” put in Stone, who, although he enjoyed the joke, really pitied the victim. “Still, imagination is very painful sometimes. Why don’t you let him out of the bag, Sile?”

      “Let him aout of the bag!” snapped Crane, rising on his elbow. “Well, I guess not! Didn’t he tell us haow comfortable them things was? He wouldn’t lift a hand to cut boughs for a bed.”

      Piper groaned. “But I washed the dishes,” he almost wailed. “Say, unhook me, Sile, and let me out, or I’ll have a fit. I tell you there’s things crawling all over me, and they’re just chewing me up alive.”

      “You don’t suppose they’re ‘gougers,’ do you?” snickered Springer.

      “Oh, laugh – confound you, laugh!” snarled Sleuth furiously. “You think it’s a joke, don’t you?”

      “Sort of sus-seems that way to me,” admitted Phil.

      “Oh, say!” wailed the miserable fellow in the sleeping bag. “If I don’t get out of this thing I’ll go crazy. I tell you I’m being eaten up alive by something.”

      “Did you ever read a certain essay on the ‘Power of Imagination,’ Piper?” asked Stone. “If you ever have, you should realize that a person may make himself very miserable by conceiving all sorts of foolish things.”

      “No,