Chunky's first act after reaching camp, was to provide himself with a shirt. After donning it, he announced that he had an appetite and wanted to know when they were going to have supper.
"Why, you had supper hours ago," scoffed Ned. "Want another one already?"
"That wasn't supper, that was four o'clock tea. Indian fighters must have real food."
"Stop teasing. We'll give the 'ittle baby his milk," returned Ned.
That night, Kris Kringle remained on guard himself. He would not trust the guardianship of the camp to any of the boys, for he fully expected that they would receive a visit from one or more of the Indians, though he did not tell the others so. But nothing occurred to disturb the camp, and the boys, despite their trying experiences, slept soundly, awakening in the morning fresh and active, ready and anxious for any further adventures.
The party set out shortly after sunrise, and traveled all day across the uneven plains, across short mountain ranges, through deep gorges and rugged foothills.
Crossing an open space the guide espied a bottle glistening in the sunlight.
"There's a bottle," pointed the guide. "Want it?"
Stacy glanced at it indifferently;
"What do I want of a bottle?"