"Oh, Mr. Bla-a-a-ack!"
The owner of the name, wrapped in a blanket, thrust an inquiring head from the doorway of his tent.
"What's all the row about?" he demanded.
"Oo!" groaned Henrietta, who had wakened at the first call, "it's that game warden! He'll never spare us now."
Keen-eared Marjory, too, was sitting up to listen; and, at Mr. Black's reply, Jean and Bettie opened their eyes.
"Wake up," commanded Henrietta, in a terrifying whisper, as she pummeled Mabel mercilessly. "Wake up, wake up—the game warden's here."
The response to this was so surprising that Henrietta, whose teeth were already chattering with fright, almost tumbled over.
"Who—oop!" shouted Mabel, doubling up her sturdy fists and hitting out, first with one, then another. "Who—oop! Who—oop! Who—oop!"
"Mabel! For goodness' sake, what do you think you're doing!" gasped Henrietta. "Oh, my poor chin!"