"Much you fellows know about Indian ways," boasted Matt Burton. "What did those Indians know about our language. Indians talk by signs and numbers. It will take a smart fellow to tell what it means when you find your heap stone."
"Don't worry, fellows. When you find it hike back an' ask Matty. He'll tell you."
Matty was saved from delivering his angry response, for just then "taps" sounded. The scout master demanded prompt attention to all camp signals. It was understood that after taps there was to be no noise, no unnecessary conversation. All was to be quiet and orderly.
Mr. Newton would not hear of Glen pushing Jolly Bill back to the farm house.
"We have an empty tent with two cots and bedding too—left here by members who were called home. You turn right in with us. We are glad to have you—both of you. I think we'll make Glen a scout."
This invitation suited both of them splendidly. Spencer was pleased, and, as for Glen, he had never experienced anything so gratifying in his life. He was so excited that he could not sleep for some time, but lay on his comfortable cot thinking of the many happenings of the last few eventful days, and especially of the exciting story of the camp fire, and the dramatic appearance of the Indian. He was glad that he was here to help his good friend, Jolly Bill, but he felt that it would be much more glorious to help him by finding bars of bright, glistening bullion, than by looking for a lost lake.
Glen was still dreaming of Indians when the bugle call aroused him, and he awakened to the glorious activities of a summer morning in a scout camp. Two scouts were in the tent almost before he had hopped out of his blankets and into his clothes.
"We came to help our friend, Mr. Spencer," explained Apple Newton.
"Want to wind up his machine an' put on some funny story records," added Chick-chick.
"I can't tell funny stories before breakfast," objected Jolly Bill. "I'm hungry enough to eat Indian."