night followed star-strewn night, for
nearly a week. The tooth-brush brigade sallied forth as soon as the sun
began slanting its long morning rays through the forest aisles, and the
boys often began nodding at a ridiculously early hour around the
bon-fire, tired from their strenuous day in the open. But each day found
their spirits higher, their muscles harder, their eyes brighter,--and
their appetites more insatiable. Ted was plumping up and Pedro trimming
down on the self-same medicine.

The chipmunks soon became so tame that they ran all over the place, over
the boys' feet, on up to their shoulders, and into their pockets for the
goodies they sometimes found. But they never ran under any one's palm.
Pedro got one cornered and caught him with his bare hands, and put him on
a leash, but the furry mite spent the next half hour straining to get
away, too unhappy to eat,--cowering, trembling, when the boys stroked his
orange striped back with a gentle finger,--and Pedro finally gave him
back his freedom, (and a pyramid of peanuts).

"Camp Chipmunk" it was finally voted to call the place, and the name was
inscribed on the side of a huge fallen log with bits of yellow-green live
moss.

Though the chipmunks could easily have gone to the creek, as they must
have before the boys came, they displayed a preference for drinking out
of the same water pail the boys did, and they sometimes took an
unexpected and unappreciated plunge bath.

Besides the very tiny chipmunks, there were some of the ground-squirrel
size with the same orange and black. They were duller of wit, and more
timid, but they used to chase the little fellows to within an inch of
their lives. One day a big Sayes chipmunk attempted to fish a cheese rind
out of the fireplace. The ashes were still hot, and he plunged into the
soft stuff over his head, he was out and away, with a piercing squeal,
almost instantly, trailing white ash behind him.

The boys used to bury nuts just to see how fast the littlest chipmunks
would smell them out. After repeatedly finding the Dutch oven bread
nibbled around the edges, Pedro hung the bread-bag from the clothes-line
one night. He was awakened next morning by the shout Ted sent up when he
found two chipmunks running down the string and squeezing their way
delightedly into the bag.

Some one always had to watch while the meal was being laid, for the
mouselike villains would be right up on the table sampling the butter, if
so