"A wild man of the jungle," suggested imaginative Henrietta.
"Perhaps you're all partly right," admitted Mr. Black. "I believe these things belong to a filthy half-breed, trapping game out of season. If I catch him at it, it will be some time before he has a chance to try it again. Perhaps he'll come back this afternoon. Now, girls, let's go back to the lake—this place certainly does smell 'injun-y'—there's no other smell quite like it."
"Can't we all go in wading?" demanded Mabel. "The water's pretty cold, but it's nice—makes your toes all pink."
"Of course you can. There isn't any danger, because the water is shallow for a long, long distance; and the sand is as hard and clean as the very cleanest thing you can think of."
"Marble!" cried Mabel.
"Aunty Jane's house!" shouted Marjory.
"Yes," laughed Mr. Black, "even as clean as that. Now, away with you all. But keep within hearing distance. I'm going to rest awhile under this pleasant tree."
"And I," murmured Mrs. Crane, drowsily, "am going to take a nap under this tree—I can't stay awake a moment longer."
Presently Bettie, the kitten, and Mrs. Crane were all sound asleep; and, from Mr. Black's leafy shelter, a sound closely resembling gentle snores proved most interesting to a puzzled chipmunk, who had a pantry in that tree. The chipmunk even perched on Mr. Black's toe to listen; but the good, weary gentleman slumbered unheedingly.