A pine bough brushed against the tent, laden with cones. It occurred to Blackie that it would be a good idea to take a few and stick them in between someone’s blankets. He lifted off a few that looked to be the most prickly and crossing the tent, pulled down the blankets of the tall lad who had gone to the lodge. The two other boys had now been joined by a third; but none of them were watching, for they were hurriedly preparing for supper, and evidently thought the bunk was his own.
Blackie shoved the pine-cones down between the blankets, and looked around to see if anyone had watched him. Someone had. A shadow fell across the front of the tent, a tall and muscular figure stood over him, and a deep voice demanded, “Do you always sleep with pine-cones in your bed?”
CHAPTER II
THE COUNCILOR
Blackie hesitated.
“Yes, sir, I always do that when I’m camping. It makes it seem more as if I was really in the woods,” he said.
The tall man—he must have been six feet two, and stockily built—looked down at Blackie and frowned. He was big enough to have picked up the boy and used him for a baseball.
“I wouldn’t lie if I were you,” he drawled. “It’s a bad habit for a young lad to acquire. That bunk belongs to Ken Haviland, my aide. By the time he’s ready to crawl in to-night, he’ll be plenty tired from a long day on the job. Don’t you think he’s entitled to a good sleep?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, since we are to be tent-mates, we ought to get acquainted.” He grinned broadly, and held out his hand. “I’m Wally Rawn. What’s your name?”
“Blackie. Blackie Thorne.”