cabin. When the dying flame occasionally leaped up and burned fitfully
for a dozen seconds or so he liked to watch it, and also glance around
him as well as he was able.

Phil fairly loved everything that had to do with outdoor life. The dank
odor of the woods filled him with a sense of delight that he could never
find words to describe. He believed it must have come down to him from
some long line of ancestors, this love for Nature, and a desire to
commune with her.

Fortune had been kind to him in giving him the means to enjoy such
outings; and it added much to his satisfaction to have these fine
fellows along with him. They were very dear to Phil. Not one of them
would he have willingly missed if such a disaster could be avoided.

Then as he lay there waiting until the drowsiness overtook him again, he
allowed his fugitive thoughts to once more wrestle with the mystery
connected with the late occupants of that birch bark cabin. Who could
they be, and whither had they flown at the approach of himself and three
chums?

It was hardly any accident, for all the signs pointed to a flight that
bordered on panic. Whoever they were they must have some good and
sufficient reason for fearing the advent of strangers. That could only
mean they dreaded the strong arm of the law; that there was _some_
reason why they wished to keep from contact with all whom they did not
know.

Well, Phil concluded, there was no use of bothering about them. They had
taken a hurried departure, and that was the end of it. He had reason to
believe that a child had been there, and possibly a woman as well.
While they had not found such tell-tale evidence as a hair-pin, still
the little silver thimble which he himself had discovered on a shelf
just before retiring, and which he had not mentioned to the others,
because he hated to get Lub wide-awake again, seemed to be pretty strong
evidence that way.

When he found himself yawning again Phil decided it was time he closed
his eyes, and allowed his senses to steal away. The fire had ceased
flaring up, and was dying out rapidly, though the ashes would likely
retain some of their heat until well on toward dawn.

The last Phil remembered was listening to the weird call of that
persistent whip-poor-will, perched in some neighboring tree, and sending
forth its shrill discordant cries.

Twice after that he awoke, and found all well. He could hear the steady
breathing of his comrades near by; and Lub