“By distinguishing yourself as a student in the School of Mines and by becoming, in due time, an efficient, broad-minded leader in your scientific profession,” was Denmead’s only answer.  “The little I’ve done for you, my boy, is too slight to merit thanks; but the work you may undertake is vastly important, and I want you to make a great success.”

He shook Ralph’s hand, laying the other on the lad’s broad shoulder.

“Good-bye, for the present, Ralph,” he added.  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you hereafter.”

“I—–­I will, sir,” stammered Ralph, swallowing hard.  “Thanks ever so much!”

He turned to go, for the launch was waiting at the camp’s pier to take him down the lake, where Tom Walsh would meet him with his wagon and drive him home.

“I must say good-bye to the boys now,” he added in a tone of regret.  “I’ve had the time of my life here, sir, and I think camp is great!”

“One moment, Ralph.  I believe Rawson has some even better news for you.”

Rawson had entered and was standing in the doorway.

“Yes, I have,” he replied, smiling.  “I kept it from you until the last minute, because it’s so good it won’t spoil!  Ralph, in our surveys we found abundant signs of iron deposits on your property.  These have been further investigated during your visit here.  Beyond a doubt there are undeveloped mines on your land, boy!”

“Then—–­then father’s dream—–­it may come true!   He always said
that, always believed it!   And now---now------”

“Your lawyer will explain to you the terms of your father’s will in case a mining company should be organized,” continued Denmead.  “Of course, I don’t know what they are, but I assume that when you reach your majority you’ll be the chief owner of any mine on your land, and a director in the company.  Success to the future, Ralph!  May health and wealth and happiness be yours!”

With a sudden boyish impulse, Ralph gave both Scout Master Denmead and George Rawson a bear-hug of sheer joy, and then he ran out to bid his other friends good-bye.  Presently he was in the launch, gliding swiftly across the lake, his weeks at Pioneer Camp a memory that would linger with him always.

The events already recorded took place in the first half of the summer.  Later, the regular routine of camp life was followed.  No week was allowed to pass without some contest in strength, skill, or endurance.  Now it was the Signalers’ Game, in which the troop was split up into three divisions:  the enemy, the defenders and the attackers.  Again it was a stalking game, which tested the cleverness of the boys in reading signs and following trails.  Often, too, there were tests in water polo, in spearing the sturgeon and in swimming diving, and paddling.

More than once Indian Joe was called upon to guide the boys on some long hike, lasting several days.  At these times, the scouts had rigid training in scaling cliffs, fording streams locating points of the compass, selecting camp sites, making tents, building bonfires, cooking hasty meals,—–­in the thousand and one details of the woodsman’s life.