the remainder of his stay in camp he pointedly
ignored the entire race of snakes, eels, and kindred reptiles.

The athletic meet was a great success. The scouts were divided, according
to weight, into juniors and seniors, and there was keen competition
in the running, jumping, and swimming events. But great as was the
interest excited, it seemed excelled the following afternoon when the
crowd set out to resume their hunt for the lost copper-mine. This was
both a competition and a fascinating mystery, and a good many beside
the members of Tent Three had apparently fallen victims to the spell.

When they reached the starting-point and separated, Ranny and his bunch
lost no time in heading for the old foundation. A little digging opened
up what seemed to have been the main entrance to the building, but,
search as they might, they failed to find anything that in the least
resembled a road or path or tramway leading to the mine entrance.
Evidently the means by which ore was formerly brought to the smelter had
been obliterated by the passing years, and it looked as if they would
have to proceed from this point more or less at random.

"It can't be so very far off," said Ranny, as they lined up before him.
"We'd better take the hillside first, and remember to look over every
foot of ground. The entrance may have been covered by a fall of rock, so
we can't count on finding it open. Keep about the same distance apart as
you were the other day, and whistle if you strike anything promising."

They set off promptly, Dale Tompkins as before being about the middle
of the line, with Court Parker on his right. The thick undergrowth
and the rocks piled up in confusion made progress necessarily slow and
prevented him from seeing very far in any direction. But every now and
then the rustling of bushes or the cracking of dead twigs under foot on
either side told Dale that he was keeping on the right course.

For over an hour he searched systematically, zigzagging back and forth
along his beat and examining the ground carefully. The slope grew
steeper, and at length he paused to wipe the perspiration from his
forehead. The sound of foot-falls on his right was plainly audible,
and through the undergrowth he glimpsed a khaki-clad figure.

"Say, Court," he called, raising his voice slightly, "found anything yet?"

"It's not Court," came back in Frank Sanson's familiar tones. "What the
dickens are you doing so far over, Tommy? Did you cha