"I'll confess that I should be lonesome without you," agreed the guide with a nod.

"There, I'm glad someone in this outfit has the sense to recognize a good thing when he sees it. How about a fire for cooking?"

"I will build the fire," cried Tad, proceeding at once to heap the sticks into a little pyramid under the crane that Cale had arranged. Butler eyed the contrivance critically. "It is plain to be seen that someone has been camping before. That is an excellent idea."

Tad soon had a blazing fire going. In the meantime, Stacy had hastened to fill the kettle, while Vaughn got out the edibles, the others busying themselves in setting the table, which in this instance was a blanket stretched over four stakes driven into the ground, with saplings for stringers, and over which the blanket was stretched taut.

None of these arrangements escaped the keen eyes of Tad Butler. Soon the odor of boiling coffee and frying bacon was in the air, and though the campers had had their breakfast only an hour or so before, each began to sniff the air appreciatively.

"Smells good, doesn't it?" grinned Stacy. "Sort of gives me an appetite, too."

"I don't think you need an odor to give you an appetite, unless you have changed a great deal since I saw you last," answered Tad Butler.

All were soon gathered about the table, and though the forenoon was not yet half ended, each seemed to possess a midday appetite. Tad told them about the trip from Chillicothe, which had been uneventful, then made them tell him all about their experiences since they left home. Cale Vaughn found so much amusement in the conversation that every little while he forgot to eat. Stacy always reminded him that he wasn't doing his duty by the food.

"Do we move today?" asked Tad.

"We are waiting for the Indian," said the guide.

"The who?" wondered Tad.