“It’s a go, then,” cried Will, eagerly; “for I want a few more pictures.  If we could only rig up something to look like that yellow hound, and have Jerry galloping around that tree in front of him, it would be simply immense.”

“Talk to me about a faker will you—­why, if Will keeps on he’ll be bamboozling the public worse than any showman ever did.  Thanks, but I guess you’ll have to excuse me from that galloping act, Will.  Once bit, twice shy, you know.  But it was gospel truth about Andy.  He even confessed that he had been up to old Rabig’s place to get him to join the crowd in playing some more measly tricks on us here.  You see he was sorry, and had to just tell all these things.”

“All but about my gun, hang him,” grumbled Bluff, indignantly.

“Bother your old gun!  Will we ever hear the last of it?” exclaimed Jerry, frowning; and yet giving Frank a sly wink with one eye, as if to inform him that he did not really mean all he said.

“You never heard the first of it yet, for I didn’t even have a single chance to shoot it off,” complained the other.

“For which all the little birds and chipmunks are rejoicing, for they have had a chance to live.  Besides, a gun like that is dangerous to the community, I think.  If it ever started to going I believe it would spit out fire without any help from you, or any one else.  But, for goodness’ sake, change the subject.  I’m sleepy,” declared Jerry, curling up on a blanket by the fire.

“All of us are, I reckon.  You see we were having a little circus of our own at the time this happened to you,” remarked Frank.

“Yes,” exclaimed Bluff, “don’t you think you’re the only pebble on the beach, Jerry.”

“Why, what happened?” demanded the other, looking up.

“Why, what do you think we’ve got all those things on the bushes drying out for?  Yes, one of the tents blew away in the middle of the storm.  I think it must have been an hour or two before midnight, when the big gust came that tore it loose.  We were all four of us under it, and there was some tall scurrying just then, believe me.”

“I can well believe it, Frank.  Where was Will with his camera then?” asked Jerry.

“Trying to keep the blessed thing from getting soaked,” answered Bluff.

“Then he doesn’t believe in wet plates?” laughed the other.

“Seems not; films are good enough for him.  Well, we managed to get all the things under the shelter of the other tent, and shivered for some hours.  Finally, after the storm passed, and it began to get very cold, we started a fire and waited to welcome the rosy dawn.”

“Don’t get poetic, Frank.  I’m really too dead for sleep to appreciate it now.  Wake me up, fellows, when lunch is ready, will you?” and, so speaking, Jerry curled up again, this time in earnest.

The others amused themselves the balance of the morning in various ways.  Bluff declared that he believed he would stay in camp while the others went off.  Frank looked at him curiously as if wondering what had struck him, for he considered that the trip was well worth taking, if only to see the husky-looking wild dogs Jerry had met and slain.