ting our clothes, and listening to the explanation of this
latest outrage."

"Oh! let Davy do it," said Giraffe; "I'm nearly frozen stiff myself
right now; and besides," he added as a brilliant after-thought, "you
know I don't carry matches with me any more. And of course you wouldn't
want to wait while I swung my little bow."

"Where's my left shoe?" shouted Step Hen just then; for there never was
a time when he could find _all_ his belongings; and in a case of
excitement like this it was a certainty that his customary complaint
would soon be heard in the land. "Who's gone and took my left shoe? I'm
dead certain I had both of 'em when I started to crawl under the canvas.
Somebody thinks it smart to keep playin' jokes on _me_ all the
time. Why can't they let _my_ things be, Thad?"

"What's that sticking out of the pocket of your coat?" asked Allan, as
Davy managed to strike a match, and apply the fire to the only lantern
they carried with them on the trip.

"Why, whoever stuck that in there?" Step Hen went on, unblushingly.
"Thinks it smart to do such silly things, and have me guessing all the
time. Just switch off, and try it on one of the others, won't you?"

Knowing that he must have undoubtedly placed the shoe in that pocket
himself in the haste of his departure from the tent that remained, Step
Hen did not dare accuse any one in particular; but glared around at
vacancy when thus addressing his supposed-to-be enemy.

But they were so accustomed to his failings by now that no one paid much
attention to what he was saying. In fact, it would have been a cause for
astonishment if twenty-four hours ever slipped past without an outburst
from Step Hen in connection with some of his personal belongings, that
seemed to have taken wings in the most mysterious fashion, and vanished,
although they always turned up again.

"But what sort of an animal was it, Thad?" asked Bumpus, still dancing
about, and slapping himself in every conceivable place in order to keep
his blood in circulation.

"Ask Jim, or Eli," replied the patrol leader, who was really too busy
just then getting some of his own clothes, to bother answering.

So the others turned to the two guides, who, not having removed any of
their ordinary garments, did not feel the chilly night air as much as
the lads.

"What was it banged us over, Eli?" asked Bumpus.

"Moose bull on the rampage!" replied the Maine woodsman, readily enough.

"A great big moose lik