"Yes," he remarked, "I'm pretty much of a mind to put it to the fellows; and if the majority favors, we'll change our camp to-morrow, for a try on the island. There's something about that place that seems to draw me."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," declared Bumpus, dolefully; "because I just know they'll want to ferry over—Allan because he's ready to do anything you say; Step-hen, for he wants to meet up with all sorts of adventures, and says he means to get away out in the Rockies some of these days; Smithy because he's afraid you'll all think him weak and girlish if he draws back; and Giraffe too when he gets the idea that mebbe we'll be leaving the bear behind; because it'll mean just so much more left for him to eat. Huh! if I'm the minority, might as well make it unanimous, and be done with it. Can't die but once, anyhow, so what does it matter?"
Of course neither of the others paid much attention to what Bumpus said. He always liked to hear himself talk; and as his comrades said, his "bark was worse than his bite." Bumpus often said he wouldn't, and changed his mind immediately.
When they landed the others were just about starting out to have Allan show how the long talked-of Indian picture writing was done. They asked questions, of course but neither Thad nor Bob would gratify their curiosity.
"We're going to keep all that for around the camp-fire to-night boys," declared the scout-master, firmly. "Wouldn't interrupt this arrangement for anything. And to tell the truth we didn't find anything so serious as to warrant a recall. So go right along with the game, Allan, and let the rest of us in on it; because Bob here is as eager to learn as any of the boys."
Bumpus, however, declared he was that tired he preferred staying in the camp, to keep the bear company.
"He might get loose and try to clean us out of all our grub," he suggested, with a broad smile.
"Sure," replied Step-hen, sneeringly; "and I just warrant you've already got your tree all picked out beforehand, if he does. Much good you'd be trying to defend our provisions. Now, if it was me, I'd fight to the last gasp before I'd let him make way with a single piece of cheese, or even a cracker."
"I believe you would, Step-hen," replied Bumpus, calmly; "and by the way, perhaps my knapsack has aired enough by now, so I'll put it in the tent again."
Step-hen made a face at him, and hurried away after the rest; but from the manner in which he looked back a number of times, and continued to shake his head as he talked to himself, it was plain to be seen that he still believed the fat boy was hiding something in that same haversack, which he did not wish any one, particularly a fellow named Step-hen Bingham, to set eyes on. And what else could that be but the missing compass, which Bumpus had once so indignantly denied having seen, after he handed it back to its owner?