ething by
the time ye get it in here to camp. I bet if ye put it all together the
colonel has chased him more'n forty miles with a bow whip.

"He was goin' to shoot Ben, but the boys got up on their ear and made it
known that if he killed the camp mascot they'd throw up their jobs.
An' if you know anything about a woods crew you'd know it's the little
things that they get the maddest about. An' now whenever the colonel
comes round he takes it out in chasin' Ben with a whip. Ben just lopes
round in a circle of a mile or two, and comes back lookin' reproachful,
but still perfectly satisfied with Number 7 as a winter residence. The
boys think a lot of Ben. Ben thinks a lot of the boys. But the colonel
is sp'ilin' his temper some with that bow whip. I reckon why Ben jest
come out there lookin' so savage was because he thought old Ward was
comin' up to camp."

The moose finished his critical survey of the group, snorted, and then
thrust himself out of sight in the bushes.

"If we ever have any serious fallin' out with Colonel Gid it's like to
be over that moose," drawled a man.

"To judge by the moose, we must be near Number 7 camp," Parker
suggested.

"Just over the hossback," was the laconic answer.

Parker was soon looking down on it from the hilltop. There were two
long, low main camps--one for the sleeping quarters of the men, the
other crowded with long, roughly made tables, at which they ate, The
space that separated the camps was roofed and had one side open to the
weather. This shelter was called the "dingle," and contained the camp
grindstone and spare sled equipment.

At a little distance was a small camp containing the stores, such as
moccasins, larigans, leggings, flannel shirts and mittens, all for sale
at double the prices ruling in the city and for Colonel Ward's profit.
The woods name for this store is the "wangan camp."

The hour was still too early for the few men left at Number 7 to be in
from the cutting. Only the cook and his helper, "the cookee," were at
the camp.

The cook came out and advanced to meet the new arrivals, having been
attracted from his kettles and pans by the view-halloo they sent down
from the hilltop.

"Colonel left word to lock him in the wangan," reported the cook,
rolling his bare arms more tightly in his dingy apron.

"Where is the colonel?" asked Connick.

"He's out at the log landin'. Be in at supper-time, so he said." The
cook eyed the captive with curiosity not