gar and nutmeg on top. When finally Mr. Kincaid pushed
back his stool, Curly gravely arose and came forward to get his share of
whatever had not been eaten.

"Now, dishes!" said Mr. Kincaid. "Will you wash or wipe, Bobby?"

"My, I'm full!" said Bobby in the way of indirect expostulation against
immediate activity.

"The time to wash dishes is right away," said Mr. Kincaid briskly. "They
wash easier; and when they're done you have a comfortable feeling that
there's nothing more to be done--and a clear conscience. Did you ever
wash dishes?"

"No, sir."

"Well, it's time you learned. Come on."

Bobby learned how to manipulate hot water, soap, and a dish-rag. Also
how difficult it is to remove some sorts of grease.

"Condemned!" pronounced Mr. Kincaid severely, returning him the frying
pan.

But when the simple task was done, Bobby felt an unusual glow of
competence and experience. He was really "camping out." A new ambition
to learn came to him, an ambition to do his share and to understand
other people's share. Naturally his mind turned first to accustomed
things.

"Where's the wood pile?" he asked Mr. Kincaid. "Can't I fill the
wood-box?"

"It's just behind the house," approved Mr. Kincaid.

Bobby turned the wooden "button" that fastened the door from the inside.
At once it was snatched from his hand and flung open. A burst of wind
rioted in, extinguished the candle, flared up the fire in the stove, and
hurled a loose paper against the roof.

"Whew!" cried Mr. Kincaid, coming to Bobby's assistance; "she's blowing
_some_! When you come back, just kick on the door, and I'll open it for
you."

[Illustration: "CONDEMNED!" PRONOUNCED MR. KINCAID SEVERELY, RETURNING
HIM THE FRYING-PAN]

Bobby stood still a moment until his eyes should expand to the darkness.
He heard the repeated and rapid _swish, swish, swish_, of wavelets
driven against the float, which rose and fell gently beneath his
feet. A roar of wind filled the night. Occasionally it lulled. Then
quite distinctly he could make out a faint grumbling diapason which he
knew to be the surges beating against the distant coast.

The armful of wood he brought in was not very large, but Mr. Kincaid
pronounced it enough.

"And now, youngster," said he, "you'd better turn in. We're going to get
up very early in the morning."

For as long as five minutes Bobby lay awake between the soft woollen
blankets. This was his first experience without sheets. Mr. Ki