“But Bumpus hadn’t camped yet, had he?” Step Hen asked.
“I think we’re coming to where he spent last night,” said Allan. “I had a glimpse just then of something that looked like a dead camp-fire. Yes, here it is, boys, you see.”
“Well, he did do it, all right,” muttered Giraffe, as he stood there, and looked down upon the ashes of a fire.
“Yes,” Thad remarked, “and here we can see where he obtained dry timber by hacking into the heart of this stump.”
“Oh! Bumpus is the surprise of this trip, all right!” exclaimed Step Hen. “I’m just goin’ to take off my hat to him, after what he’s done.”
“He seems to keep us guessing, don’t he?” Thad remarked, looking around with a feeling akin to pride, to realize that the one who all along had been termed the real tenderfoot of the patrol, should so suddenly develop such astonishing skill in taking care of himself.
“No babes in the wood about this business, let me tell you.” asserted Giraffe, after he had examined the way Bumpus had made his fire. “Done things pretty near as well as an old seasoned fire builder could have made out.”
That was a high compliment indeed, coming from Giraffe. Bumpus must have felt greatly pleased, could he have heard it. Perhaps his right ear burned him just about that time, for all boys know that such a thing happens only when some one is making complimentary remarks about you.
“But Bumpus left here this morning, of course?” said Step Hen; and Allan went on:
“He did, after passing a pretty comfortable night on that bed of hemlock boughs which he made, and which you can see there. Kept his feet toward the fire, too, just like an old experienced camper, who was without a tent and blanket would do. And his going off without this last is what convinces me Bumpus didn’t really mean to lose himself when he started out to get his bear. He just took a lot of grub along, his hatchet, and plenty of ammunition, so as to be pretty well fixed in case he couldn’t make use of his compass in finding the way back to camp.”