se long, so eager were they all to inspect the
mess-shack, bulking large and unfamiliar through the gathering dusk.

It wasn't really a shack at all, but a commodious log structure some
forty feet by twenty--big, airy, and spacious. There were benches and
tables of rough yet solid construction, bracket-lamps, many windows,
and a cavernous stone fireplace in which a roaring blaze of logs leaped
and crackled. The size and scale of it all fairly awed the boys, and
they stared eagerly around for Mr. Thornton. To their disappointment the
banker was not to be seen.

"He had to go to Washington unexpected," explained the man in charge to
Mr. Curtis. "But he sent word you was to make yourselves at home, and
he'd be back just as soon as he could."

This put a momentary damper on the affair, but it was not of long
duration. There was too much to see and do in the short time at their
disposal for regrets of any sort. There was little accomplished that
night, however. After a hearty supper, beds were made up on the floor
and every one was glad to turn in early.

They were up with the sun, and then began a strenuous period of mingled
work and play which filled to overflowing each waking hour of the
three days that followed. They got out the tents and erected them in
the old places. They took hikes and motor-boat trips; they fished
and explored, talked to each other with signal-flags, and put in a
commendable amount of time on their drill. They were so constantly
employed extracting the last atom of enjoyment from the brief vacation
that they quite failed to notice the slight abstraction of their
scoutmaster, or the manner in which he watched the mails and fairly
devoured the daily paper. Not one of them found time even to glance at
that paper himself, much less think of, or discuss the affairs of the
nation and the world. Then, suddenly, came the awakening.

It was toward noon on the fourth day of their stay--a Tuesday; they
remembered that afterward. The crowd had been for a hike to Lost Mine,
and, returning, had dawdled lazily, for the air was almost oppressively
balmy. Dale, Ranny, and Court Parker were considerably ahead of the
others, and as they reached the parade-ground they came suddenly upon
Harry Vedder, whose turn it had been to fetch the mail and paper. The
plump boy's face was flushed and moist; his expression fairly exuded
importance.

"Well!" he stated, without waiting for them to speak. "It's come."

Ranny st