k sat up. "Go out to
the wash basin and dash cold water into your eyes. That will
open 'em and freshen you up."

"Have you seen anything of the prowler?" whispered Dick, as he
got upon his feet.

"Not a sign," declared Tom.

"It would be too early for him to prowl about yet," whispered
Dick, as he passed out into the Summer night. "Good night, Tom."

Only a faint stirring of the light breeze in the tree tops, the
droning hum of night insects, and the occasional call of a night
bird---these were all the sounds that came to the ears of the
young camp guard.

Dick dashed the water into his eyes, then felt wonderfully wide
awake.

"If Mr. Prowler comes, he'll probably go for the canned vegetables
and the biscuit," Prescott decided. "He must already have more
meat than he can handle all day to-morrow---if it doesn't spoil."

So Dick posted himself where he could easily watch the approach
of any outsider toward the boxes that served as cupboards for
the canned supplies.

The time slipped away, until it was nearly midnight, as Prescott
knew from stepping into the tent and lighting a match briefly
for a swift glimpse at his watch.

As Dick came out of the tent he fancied he heard a distant step,
crackling on a broken twig.

"If there's anyone coming I'd better slip into the shadow of the
canvas," Prescott told himself, acting accordingly.

Presently the stealthy steps sounded nearer to the camp.

"Someone is coming, as sure as fate," Dick said to himself. "Shall
I rouse one or two of the other fellows? But they might alarm
the prowler. I'll handle him myself."

CHAPTER XI

A HARD PROWLER TO CATCH

It was the prowler.

Close to the tent he stopped to listen to the heavy breathing
that came from the sound young sleepers. Dick crouched farther
back into the shadow.

Uttering a low grunt, that was half chuckle, the prowler slipped
along in the darkness, making toward the cupboards.

"My friend, I want a little talk with you," suddenly spoke Dick
Prescott, slipping up behind the uninvited visitor.

The prowler wheeled quickly about.

"You don't want anything to do with me," he corrected, in a harsh
voice. "I could eat two or three like you, and then have plenty
of appetite left."

"Perhaps," smiled Dick Prescott undaunted.

"And I'll do it, too, if you don't stand back."

"But I want to talk with you, my friend," Dick insisted.

"I don't want to talk with you," snapped the prowler.