The Camp Fire Boys at Log Cabin Bend; Or, Four Chums Afoot in the Tall Timber
“Oh! there are a number of answers to your question, Perk,” the leader informed him. “For instance, this chap might be some fugitive from justice who had broken jail, and was in hiding.”

“Yes, or even a lunatic at large,” continued Wee Willie, perhaps amused to see how eagerly the other was swallowing all these suggestions; “for we happen to know such a thing did happen once, years back; for the State Asylum for the Insane is located not much more’n twenty miles northeast of our home town of Chester.”

“Then there might be another explanation for his being here,” spoke up Amos. “I chanced to be talking with the head game warden only a week back, and he told me he had never known the game poachers so daring as this season. They have shot deer, snared partridge and rabbits out of season, and laid illegal set-lines for black bass in some of the best lakes of the county.”

“Yes,” Elmer added, thoughtfully, “it might be one of those bold game hogs who didn’t want to be seen up here, where he really had no right to be. But why bother our heads so about the fellow? He’s skipped out, and the chances are we’ll never glimpse hide nor hair of him again. Perk was the only one who got a peep at the slippery rascal.”

Accordingly the subject was dropped, for the time being at any rate; but Perk looked unusually grave as he proceeded to get supper, as though creeping, mysterious men kept looming up before his mental vision.

Indeed, doubtless the little mystery connected with the strange actions of the unknown would give each one of the boys cause for more or less reflection, and vague speculation.

The supper was voted a great success. Perk prided himself on his ability as a cook; and since the others usually commended his efforts to the skies he almost always insisted on doing the lion’s share of this work; to which of course no one objected in the least.

The sliced ham was browned to a nicety, the eggs, carefully packed so as not to be broken in transit, were “turned” or not, to suit the individual taste of each fellow; the coffee seemed like ambrosia, so fragrant and cheering did it appear; while the home-made bread, with genuine butter for a spread, added much to the enjoyment of their first meal in camp.

These four lads of Chester had been accustomed to similar outings during the summer holidays, and thus banded together called themselves the “Camp Fire Boys,” a name that seemed to possess a certain 
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