bee-line for that camp-fire, and beg to
share the meal? That's what he did, came walking in, and in his clumsy
way tried to dance himself into our good graces. But the hour was late,
and we all made a break for the branches of the trees. I'll never
remember that without laughing. It was sure the funniest sight ever."

"There's Step-hen," Giraffe had gone on to remark, "always talking about
that uncle of his who lives out somewhere in the wild and woolly west;
he says he expects to pay him a visit some day, and brags about how
he'll have a chance to bag his grizzly bear then; but excuse me, if a
grizzly can eat any more than this tame one; I wouldn't bag him for a
gift."

"Oh! you mistake his meaning," chuckled Thad, "When he speaks of bagging
a bear he means shooting him and bringing him to bag, not capturing one.
The man doesn't live who would try to capture such a monster,
single-handed."

"Have you ever shot one, Thad?"

"Well, hardly, seeing that I've never lived where they grew grizzlies;
but the time might come when I would have the chance. I'd like to be
able to say I had brought such a fierce beast down. But I want to get
back, and keep an eye on that fire you've built. It's sure a wonder,
only I wouldn't throw any more wood on it for a long time. Those flames
shoot up pretty high, right now."

"Oh! it's just glorious!" declared the young fire worshipper; "and I
don't see how I'm ever going to get to sleep to-night for tinkering with
it. When I can attend a fire I seem to thrill all over. Funny, ain't it,
Thad, how it affects me? My folks say they'll have to send me to the
city, and make a fireman out of me."

"Well, if they asked my advice," remarked the other, "I'd say you ought
to be put on a railroad engine to stoke. Inside of a month you'd be so
sick of making fires you'd never want to try it again as long as you
lived."

"Hey! don't you go to putting them up to that dodge, then," remarked
Giraffe, in sudden alarm, "because I don't want to get an overdose of
making fires. Just now it's a passion with me. I love to sit, and stare
into the blaze, because I can see all sorts of things there. Why, Thad,
honest now, they talk to me just like that silly old Injun picture
writin' does to Allan. I read stories in the fires I make."

"Well," remarked Thad, drily; "we'll make sure then, that this camp-fire
dies out before we go to our blankets; because I'm bound to know just
where you are, Giraffe. And now