“I suppose they have broken camp and are on their way,” said Tim. “They may have just stopped by to take a look at us. You didn’t see the woman?”
“No, and I can’t even be sure that the man was that Frenchman. Did he have on brown corduroy pants and a checked Mackinaw?”
“Yes,” the twins nodded.
“Then that’s who it was. I could see that much by the feeble light of the fire, though I couldn’t see his face. Think we ought to go back to bed?”
“I’m too sleepy to sit up for any Frenchman,” Kent yawned.
“I don’t believe that he’ll come back,” Mac said. “I’m freezing around here, so I’m on my way back to the bed. Call me for breakfast!”
“Call you nothing!” cried Kent. “Barry and I cooked supper, so you fellows are billed to provide the breakfast.”
The others went back to their sleeping bags, and Barry built the fire up before seeking his. When he did crawl back into the soft, warm interior of the bag he did not go to sleep at once. For a long time he lay listening, but no sound broke the stillness, and at last he dozed off and slept soundly. He was awakened by Kent stirring around and crawling over him.
“Let’s go see what these twins have for us,” his companion invited, and Barry followed as quickly as he could get dressed. The Ford brothers were already on the job, and bacon was curling in the pan. The day was gray and overcast, and it looked as though it might snow.
“I guess our French friend didn’t come back,” Mac said, forking out bacon on the tin plates. “Everything is about ready to eat. Come and get it.”