d that things were admirably arranged for his purpose.

Donald Bane and James Dougall, having finished their fortress in the
centre of the open lawn, as already described, returned to their fire,
which, it may be remembered, was kindled close to the edge of the
bushes. There they cooked some food and devoured it with the gusto of
men who had well earned their supper. Thereafter, as a matter of
course, they proceeded to enjoy a pipe.

The night, besides being fine and calm, was unusually warm, thereby
inducing a feeling of drowsiness, which gradually checked the flow of
conversation previously evoked by the pipes.

"It is not likely the redskins will come up here to give us a chance
when there's such a lot of our lads gone to meet them," said Bane, with
a yawn.

"I agree with you, Tonald," answered Dougall grumpily.

"It is quite new to hev you agreein' with me so much, Shames," returned
Bane with another yawn.

"You are right. An' it is more lively to disagree, whatever," rejoined
Dougall, with an irresistible, because sympathetic, yawn.

"Oo ay, that's true, Shames. Yie-a-ou!"

This yawn was so effusive that Dougall, refusing to be led even by
sympathy, yawned internally with his lips closed and swallowed it.

The conversation dropped at this point, though the puffs went on
languidly. As the men were extended at full-length, one on his side,
the other on his back, it was not unnatural that, being fatigued, they
should both pass from the meditative to the dreamy state, and from that
to the unconscious.

It was in this condition that Salamander discovered them.

"Asleep at their posts!" he said mentally. "That deserves punishment."

He had crept on hands and knees to the edge of the bushes, and paused to
contemplate the wide-open mouth of Bane, who lay on his back, and the
prominent right ear of Dougall, whose head rested on his left arm. The
debris of supper lay around them--scraps of pemmican, pannikins, spoons,
knives, and the broken shells of teal-duck eggs which, having been
picked up some time before, had gone bad.

Suddenly an inspiration--doubtless from the spirit of mischief--came
over Salamander. There was one small unbroken egg on the ground near to
Bane's elbow. Just over his head the branch of a bush extended. To
genius everything comes handy and nothing amiss. Salamander tied the
egg to a piece of small twine and suspended it to the twig in such
fashion that the egg hung directly o