t's the very box I always buy it in at
our grocer's."

"Yep," said Liz. "It comes in that. But that's an old box I've had a
long time, and there was lic'rish powder in it. I guess 'twon't hurt
none o' yer; but I wouldn't eat much o' that stuffin'."

"Goodness!" murmured Jess, as the laughter broke out. "I _thought_
that stuff smelt kind of funny when I shook it out of the can."

CHAPTER XV

THE BARNACLE HAS A NOSE

Aside from that single mistake the meal was declared to be a great
success. The cake turned out a joy, and when it and the heaping dishes
of ice-cream were brought on, the boys stood up and gave three cheers
for the girls of Acorn Island Camp.

"But hold on!" exclaimed Chet, suddenly investigating his share of the
ice-cream with a spoon. "I have been given a premium with my supply.
Here! who has lost a perfectly good fly?"

"Alive?" demanded his chum, Lance.

"He can still crawl," admitted Chet.

"That fly's a perfect idiot," declared Lance, warmly. "It's the same
one that was in the hot gravy a little while ago. I hope he takes a
chill. What does he think this is--a turkish bath?"

They lingered long at the table, until finally Liz (who had agreed to
"clean up") drove them all out of the tent. They finished the
ice-cream (which Reddy and Short and Long declared _had_ to be eaten
up because there was not ice enough to keep it out in the open), with
the light fading out of the western sky and the early fireflies
flitting about the edge of the wood.

The Barnacle began to bark vociferously, all of a sudden. Lizzie, up
at the lighted cook-tent, squealed.

Up rose the boys with a great whoop. "Go for it!" yelled Lance. "Sick
'im!" which seems to be the approved way to set a dog on anything
living.

Barnacle was barking his foolish head off. He dashed across from the
cook-tent to the woods, and then back again. The boys all urged him
on. The girls ran together in a frightened group, Lil moaning:

"Oh, he's here again! that dreadful man is here again!"

"Hush you!" commanded Liz, in disgust. "'Tain't no man. 'Tain't even a
ha'nt. I seen it. It's a black and white kitten----"

"Oh, Chet! call him off! call him off!" begged Laura.

"Quick, Chet!" added Jess. "Don't let that horrid dog hurt that
kitty."

"Chetwood!" shrieked Laura again, knowing more about the inhabitants
of the woods than her chum. "Chetwood! Stop it! Come back! That's _a
polecat_!"

"_What_?" gasped all the girls, a