As they drew closer to the camp Thad could see that some of the boys
were sitting there. Perhaps they had been too anxious to even try and
sleep; though he believed he knew of one at least who could never have
held out all this while, no matter how strong his determination.

Waiting until they had arrived within a certain distance, and there was
no evidence that any one had noticed the descending lantern, Thad gave
vent to a call. It was the bark of the fox, and used by the members of
the patrol as a signal in case they wished to communicate with one
another.

He saw the figures about the fire quicken into life. They seemed to
jump to their feet, and stare about them, as if unable to understand
what that call meant.

A little to the surprise of Thad his signal was repeated from a point
close by, and immediately Allan Hollister showed up. Undoubtedly the
Maine boy had been scouting around the borders of the camp, seeking to
guard against any surprise. He had watched the coming of the group with
the lantern, and guessed that two of them must be the missing comrades,
Thad and Bob.

When they all stalked into camp, the boys were thunderstruck to see Old
Phin and his daughter, apparently on the best of terms with their
comrades; and as for the tall man with the long hair and beard, they
could easily guess who he must be by the way Bob Quail clung to his
hand.

Then Bumpus called for three cheers, and they were given with a vim that
made the valley echo from side to side. Possibly some of those
moonshiner videttes must have started up, wondering what on earth could
be occurring in the camp of the Boy Scouts.

There was little chance that any of the boys would get a wink of sleep
during the remainder of that eventful night. Long did they sit there by
the revived fire, watching Mr. Quail drink his coffee, cup after cup,
and listening to the strangest story they had ever heard. Even when
finally, along about three in the morning, they were induced to lie
down upon their various beds of leaves and grass, sleep must have
utterly refused to visit their eyes, save in the case of Bumpus himself;
and he could drop into slumber in almost "any old position, even if he
were hanging by his heels," as Giraffe used to say.

And so the night passed away, and another morning found them, red-eyed
but joyful beyond compare; for they felt that their great hike among the
mountains had turned out to be the finest thing possible, both for