Others could do the same, now that their attention was called to the fact.
“With the breeze coming from over that way, it ought to be plain enough we must look for the cabin there,” remarked Tom.
The further they advanced the plainer became the evidence that there was a fire of some sort ahead of them. Presently they got a whiff of cooking, at which some of the hungry scouts began to sniff the air like war horses when the odor of burnt powder comes down the breeze from the battlefield.
“There it is!” exclaimed one of the watchful boys, suddenly.
Yes, there stood a commodious cabin right in the midst of the thick woods. It was a charming site for the home of one who loved nature as much as the old naturalist did.
When a vociferous shout rang forth a form was seen to come quickly to the open doorway. It was the same genial Larry Henderson whom some of the scouts had once rescued from the unkind assault of the bully of Lenox and his crowd, as they pelted the lame man with hard ice balls.
He welcomed them to his little home with a heartiness that could not be doubted, and soon a royal dinner was being prepared for the whole party. While this was being dispatched later on, the owner of the woods cabin listened to the story of the great hike over Big Bear Mountain, as told by the boys.
Everything seemed to interest him very much indeed, and when last of all they told him how some unscrupulous boys had stolen most of their supplies, meaning to break up the hike, Mr. Henderson looked pleased.
“Don’t let a little thing like that deter you, boys, from carrying out your original proposition,” he remarked. “I can spare you all you want in the way of supplies. Yes and even to a coffee-pot and an extra frying-pan. An enterprise as splendidly started as this has been must not be allowed to languish, or be utterly wrecked through the mean tricks of such scamps as those boys.”
He was pleased when they gave him a round of hearty cheers, such as could only spring from a group of lively, wide-awake American boys.