Ned and Walter set up a yell.
"Build a smudge, Charlie," commanded the guide. "I am going out to meet whoever it is. Send your smoke up as high as you can, Charlie."
"Me smoke um."
"Not one of you must leave the camp," wound up the guide.
Regardless of his still lame foot, Cale Vaughn started off at a run, and was lost to view in a moment. Then the boys, the Professor and the Indian took account of their surroundings. The results of Tad Butler's ingenuity were apparent on all sides. The Professor proudly pointed out what Tad had accomplished as an object lesson that they would do well to remember. They were shortly interrupted by three signal shots, but did not know whether these had been fired by the guide or by the persons who had made the smudge. They decided to answer the shots, but Charlie John shook his head.
"No shoot. Fool guide, fool boys if do," he said.
It was late in the afternoon, in fact near dark, when a yell startled the campers. Then came another yell, and a shot, and Tad Butler, followed by the howling Stacy, came tearing into camp on their ponies, leaping logs, roots, stumps and rocks.
A moment more and the boys were hugging each other delightedly. Such a cheer as the four set up together startled the birds that had sought their roosting perches for the night. Then came another startling sound.
"Ugh, ugh, ugh, oo-oo-oo!" Stacy's eyes widened.
"There—there's that moose fellow that put our camp out of business the other night. Take to the trees, fellows! He'll be here in a minute."