the fire and telling all about our adventures since the time we had seen each other before. Those fellows were on an auto trip, the same as we were, and they had a camping kit and everything. They were just starting to follow the Old Forge road north and wriggle around through the Adirondacks, that’s what Brent said. But he said as long as we were going in search of treasure, they’d go with us. He said that treasure was his middle name.

Harry said, “Well, you seem to be something of a dabster with engines; suppose we all go back into the village and maybe you can get our old boat started. Then we’ll hit the trail for the next berg and see if we can get a place to bunk until morning.”

“We bunk in the woods,” one of those little fellows sung out.

Harry said, “Yes, but you’re good scouts; you came prepared to do that.”

Brent said, “All right, pile in as many of you as want to.”

“We’ll walk with Harry Donnelle,” little Willie-Wide-Awake shouted.

So that was the way we fixed it—Pee-wee and Grove and Skinny and I went ahead with Brent Gaylong in the Ford, and Brent’s patrol followed along with Harry.

“Where is the old scow, anyway?” Brent called to Harry.

“Go right up the village street,” Harry said, “and turn into a road branching off. You’ll see it standing near a house; it’s a new Cadillac—seven-passenger—nineteen twenty. We’ll be there long before you get it started.”

“You’ll know it, because the headlights are the only two lights in the whole village,” I said to Brent; “we ought to charge them for illuminating the town.”

“The lights are dimmed,” Pee-wee said.

“It isn’t an old scow,” Skinny piped up, in that funny way of his; “it’s a new scow.”

“Well, I’ll bet a Canadian dime I get it started,” Brent said. “Harry’s all right on adventure and he’d give you the coat off his back, but I think he’s a punk mechanic.”

“He understands engines!” little Skinny sang out. “Don’t you say anything against him, because he understands everything; he sewed a button on for me.”

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