of size, but capable of taking in every
point going.

"How d'ye suppose he did do it?" persisted Step Hen, who was very
determined, once he had set his mind on anything--stubbornness some of
his camp-mates called it.

"Oh! there are ways easier to grasp in your mind than explain," Allan
remarked. "You just _seem_ to know a thing. Some hidden instinct tells
you, I might say. You feel a deadness in the ashes that's different
from fresh ones. And then the looks tell you whether the dew has
fallen on them or not. In this case Toby, I reckon, has found out that
they seem mighty fresh; and so no night has passed since the last
spark of fire died out. There are other ways of telling about how many
nights ago it may have been made, if an old one. But you ought to make
a practice of studying these things connected with fires, Giraffe,
instead of being always wanting to make fresh blazes. You'd find the
matter mighty interesting, and worth while, I give you my word."

"Say, that gives me an idea!" exploded the tall scout; "and mebbe I
will. Just as you say, Allan, everybody's getting sore on me for
wanting to always build fires and fires, _and_ fires. I've been able
to start 'em every which way, from flint and steel, to twirling a
stick with a bow, after the style of them South Sea Islanders; and
like old Alexander I'm cryin' for new worlds to conquer. Well, here
they are, just like you say; and connected with fires too; right in my
line, so to speak. Thank you for giving me the tip, Allan; I'm sure
goin' to think it over."

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Step Hen, fervently.

"Now, what d'ye say that for?" demanded Giraffe, taking umbrage at once.

"If ever you devote your colossal mind to the job of seeing how many
ways fires can be _put out_, instead of started, the rest of us'll
have a chance to get some decent sleep nights; because we won't be
always afraid of the woods burnin' up with your crazy experiments,"
and Step Hen moved a little further away from his chum as he said
this, not knowing how Giraffe might take it.

But the tall scout, after meditating over the matter for part of a
minute only remarked indifferently:

"Oh! that's all right, Step Hen; you've got your faults too, and big
ones in the bargain. Ask Bumpus here if my faculty for makin' fires
didn't save us from a whole peck of trouble that time up in Maine when
we found ourselves lost, a cold night comin' on, two partridges shot,
and not a single match