In Camp on the Big Sunflower | Page 4

of the queer-looking
marks they saw revealed by the light of the torch.
With the others it was different.
"Somebody's been kneeling here, for a fact," declared Steve.
"Here's where his knees pressed in the earth; and you can see how his
toes dug holes yonder," Owen remarked, pointing.
"Just so," Max went on; "and when you notice how short the distance
between knees and toes is, you'll agree with me it was a boy."
"That's all right, Max," spoke up Steve; "but why would he be a scared
boy--why didn't the chump walk right into camp and join us?"
"Perhaps this boy has some reason to be afraid. Perhaps he got an idea
in his head that we'd come up here to hunt for him! And when he saw
Toby looking straight at him, he fell into a regular panic right away."
"You m-mean he s-s-s-s----" and finding that the word was going to
prove too much for him Toby quickly puckered up his lips, gave a little
whistle, and wound up by speaking the objectionable word as plainly as
anyone could have done--"skedaddled?"
"Yes, ran away as fast as he could," Max continued. "I'm sure of that
from the tracks he made, and only wonder how he could have done the
same without you hearing him."
"Where are his tracks?" asked Steve.
"Yes, show 'em to us, Max," added Bandy-legs.
"Look here, and here, and here, then. You can see by the size that these
footprints were made by a boy. And, yes, his shoes are just about
falling to pieces in the bargain. He's got one tied with a piece of twine,
wrapped several times around."
"Gosh! however do you know that, Max?" asked the astonished

Bandy-legs.
"Why, once you learn how to read signs, it's as easy as falling off a
log," laughed Max, as he proceeded to show them just how he figured
things out.
"That's t-t-too bad," muttered Toby.
"Just why?" inquired Max.
"If he'd only had the n-n-nerve to step up, and m-m-make our
acquaintance, there's that bully pair of m-m-moccasins, you know, I'd
like to have g-g-given him. Always pinch my t-t-toes dreadful. Just
f-f-fit him, I bet," declared Toby, who had a very warm heart.
"Well, it's too late now, because the fellow's far enough away by now,"
commented Max.
"Perhaps we might happen to run across him some other time?"
suggested Steve, consolingly.
"Like as not," the other remarked, "and now, let's return to the camp,
and think of what we'll have for supper. I'm as hungry as a bear, for
one."
"Same here," declared Bandy-legs enthusiastically; for, though short of
stature, he was known to have full stowage capacity when it came to
disposing of appetizing food.
There was soon more or less of a bustle around the camp. Each one
seemed willing to help, and from the orderly way in which they went
about their several tasks it was evident that these campers had reduced
things to something of a system.
And while the supper is in process of preparation it might be as well for
us to learn a little more about these five lively lads.
They belonged in the town of Carson, which lay some fifteen miles to
the south of the camp.

Always warm friends and chums, they had lately organized themselves
into a little club, which they called the Outing Boys of Carson. The
main object of this association was camping out, and having a good
time generally. But Max and Owen had by degrees conceived ideas far
in advance of these early plans.
It was on account of these ambitious projects that they had now come
up into this wilderness where the boys of Carson were never known to
penetrate before.
Max had a good home, and his cousin Owen, who was an orphan, lived
with him.
Steve was the only son of the leading grocer in Carson, which fact
more than once aroused the keen jealousy of Toby Jucklin, who, like
Bandy-legs, never seemed able to get enough to eat.
Toby himself lived with an uncle, and perhaps this gentleman did not
fully appreciate the enormous appetite of a growing boy, and failed to
satisfy his needs. Besides, Nathan Jucklin was known all over that
section as close-fisted, and capable of "squeezing a penny."
Then there was Bandy-legs. Of course he had a name by which he was
known among his teachers at school and at home. It was Clarence; but
to every boy in town he went by the significant name of Bandy-legs.
They had come up the narrow and tortuous Evergreen River in a couple
of old boats, capable of carrying all the camp material; though so leaky
that frequent baling out was necessary in order to keep things dry.
Sometimes they