th of his
assertion. But Jack, after examining the earth oven, declared that it
was sure to work splendidly.

"And six hours or so ought to be really enough to cook a fish,
especially if we get it as hot as we can," he assured the architect.

In due time this was carried out. Plenty of red embers were placed in
the hole in the hard clay, and covered over; still more being added
until the place was furiously hot. Then the ashes being taken out the
cleaned fish was placed carefully within, after which the top was sealed
over with wet clay, making the oven a "hermetically sealed one," as
Steve proudly proclaimed.

That was the longest afternoon Toby Hopkins ever knew during the entire
course of his young life. He seemed to look up at the sun forty times,
as though resting under a grave suspicion that some modern Joshua might
have commanded it to "stand still." Steve began to notice his actions,
and seemed puzzled to account for them, being wholly unsuspicious of the
real cause.

He even at one time about the middle of the afternoon sought Jack out,
finding him working at his negatives; for he had fetched along a little
daylight developing tank, and had already announced himself as well
pleased with what the results seemed to promise.

"Jack, see here, there's something wrong with our Toby," Steve said in a
cautious voice, although the object of his remark being some distance
away there was not the slightest chance of his overhearing anything.

Jack knew what was coming, but he did not even smile.

"Why, what makes you say that, Steve?" he asked, solicitously.

"He's acting so queer that I'm afraid the poor fellow must be going
looney," Steve told him, with a ring of sincere regret in his voice.

"Queer in what way?" asked the other, continuing his work.

"Oh! in lots of ways," sighed Steve. "For one thing he can't keep still
a minute, but jumps up, and walks around nervously. Then he's always
looking up at the sun, and shaking his head as if he couldn't make
things out. I've seen him looking at you as if he had a grudge he was
nursing. Now _something_ has happened to Toby since he left camp
this morning, and I'd like to know what it is."

"Why, nothing has happened to him except that he's seen a lot of
interesting things, the same as I have. We mean to speak of them after
supper, while we lie around taking our ease, you know. Don't worry about
Toby; I give you my word the boy is all right. Little danger of him