CHAPTER VIII
THE MYSTERIOUS HAM THROWER
"Where am I? Oh! what was that fell alongside me? Who's throwing stones? Hello! Max, Toby, Bandy-legs, where are you all at?"
Steve had found his tongue apparently, and was shouting all this at the top of his voice. Max thought it high time he showed himself, so as to quiet the excitable chum.
"All right, Steve; I'm here at your elbow, you see," he remarked, stepping out into plainer view. "You've only been up to your old tricks again, and walking in your sleep. I think you must have had a bad case of thirst, for you started straight for the spring, and you see you nearly got there."
"You don't say?" ejaculated Steve, looking down in some dismay at his bare feet, and his now shivering figure, clad only in thin pajamas. "But what happened, Max? Sure that was a terrible screech that woke me up; and I tell you I heard some heavy thing bump on the ground close by me!"
"So did I, Steve," added the other; "let's look and see."
Five seconds later and Max gave utterance to a bubbling cry.
"Great Caesar!" exclaimed Steve, staring at the object the other bent over and picked up; "this is the funniest thing that ever happened to me, Max. Why, if it ain't raining hams up here in the woods! Some farmer's smoke-house must have blown up, and we get the benefit."