hat we are
going to do about it."

"Oh, that'll be all right," said Tom Burgess, hospitably. "You'll all
come over and eat supper with us to-night, and we'll help you rig up
your tent. Just wait till I run over and tell the cook."

The canoe-boys, who knew nothing of the Rangers' previous training as
firemen and other things, under Will Rogers's leadership, were surprised
to see the businesslike manner with which these country lads set to work
to make themselves comfortable. While some cut tent-poles or gathered
firewood, others overhauled the big tarpaulin that was to form their
tent, and provided it with stout cords at corners and sides. When it was
finally raised and stretched into position, it formed a serviceable and
roomy shelter, which, though lacking the whiteness of the New York
tents, was decidedly more picturesque and in keeping with the Rangers'
present character of shipwrecked mariners. Beneath its dingy spread all
the provisions and camp equipments were neatly piled on one side, while
the blankets, spread on the ground above some bits of old canvas, were
so arranged on the other as to make one long bed.

All this was hardly completed when the loud banging of an iron spoon
against a tin pan sounded a welcome supper call from the other camp,
while at the same moment Tom Burgess appeared to act as host and escort.

The canoe-boys had brought along a regular cook, and their camp
consisted of a kitchen tent, a mess tent, and a big living or sleeping
tent, in which, however, very few of them ever slept. It was lots more
fun to lie in their canoes under the little striped canoe tents hung
from the masts, and making enclosures so charmingly snug, that the Berks
boys declared them even superior to the bicycle shelter tents that had
so excited their admiration when they were Road Rangers.

As the sloop's galley was flooded with water, Captain Crotty and young
Jabe had also accepted a supper invitation from the hospitable
New-Yorkers, and while they ate, the skipper outlined his plans for the
future. As the tide had already turned ebb when the wreck occurred, he
had at once carried an anchor out on the side opposite to that through
which the water was pouring. From this anchor a cable was extended to
the sloop's mast-head, and thence led down to the deck. Here it was
subjected to a heavy strain, that, as the tide fell, would careen the
vessel to that side. By this means the skipper hoped to get at the hole
on th