imb a telegraph pole with him and throw him down good and hard.
When he landed it would explode and he'd get his."

"Sure," laughed Frank. "Listen to the bloodthirsty Thomas. What do you
suppose would be going on up the pole all that time?"

"Well, I'd be there watching for Wyckoff and when the explosion blew him
up, I'd reach out and slap his wrist as he went sailing by."

"Well, he isn't here and probably won't be here for some time, either.
We'd better get to sleep," Jack stated. "Tomorrow bright and early we'll
get those carpenters at work. One plank is a short job and then it'll
only be a few minutes work for all hands to slap on the copper paint and
into the water she goes. We should have the Fortuna afloat before noon
if everything goes well."

"Hurray!" cried Tom. "Then we'll go up to the cabin--"

His voice lost its ringing, cheery tone as he thought of what they might
find at the cabin. No one could speak for a few minutes.

At last they composed themselves for slumber in the after cabin that the
boys liked so well. It was fitted up with souvenirs of their various
trips. Here a pair of wings from a great snowy owl that Tom had shot.
There a stuffed porcupine that caused such a commotion in their camp in
the Canadian wilds of Georgian Bay. Here were the jaw bones of a giant
muscalonge that had taken the bait at sunrise one morning as Harry was
trolling from a skiff in northern Michigan. So on it went with various
trophies of the hunt and chase. The room was their parlor, where they
gathered for a pleasant evening and where they preferred to spend the
night.

Rowdy curled on a rug in the middle of the floor. One eye was open. Ever
as he slept or dozed his limbs twitched convulsively and he moaned and
muttered in his fitful unconsciousness.

No disturbance wakened the boys that night. They slept soundly as only
healthy, hearty boys can sleep when their minds are filled with pure
thoughts of sport and active out-of-doors life. As yet they had not been
tainted with the many things that go to disturb rest. Their everyday
training at the Beaver Patrol club rooms had been along right lines.
Their Scout Masters were all young men of high ambition whose purpose
was to teach their younger scouts that highest, noblest lesson--that man
is here for a purpose and that purpose is not a selfish one. Thus far
their teaching had not been in vain.

With the early beams of the morning sun Jack was awake.

"Come on, boys