As has been mentioned before, some of the hammocks which the boys had slung were close to the water’s edge. One hammock, put up by Randy, hung across a small stream that at that point flowed into Big Bear Lake. It was this hammock into which Jeff had thrown himself, probably while waiting for the lads to return.

“What are you going to do, Andy?” questioned Jack.

“Let him down into the brook. It will do him good,” returned the fun-loving Rover.

“Now you are talking!” came from Gif. “Souse him good! He deserves it!”

Everyone of the boys was willing to teach Jeff a lesson, and the others watched with interest while Andy brought forth his pocketknife and commenced to saw away at the rope that held the hammock in place. All unconscious of what was going on, Jeff snored away as lustily as ever.

“It’s going!” whispered Andy, a few seconds later. “Watch him, boys, but get out of sight.”

The others understood and quickly sprang behind the neighboring trees. Then Andy gave a final slash.

Crack! The rope parted. Splash! The hammock with Jeff in it struck the brook, sending the water flying in every direction. Then the colored man rolled over and the next instant was floundering around vigorously.

“Hi! Hi! Save me! I’s drownin’! I’s drownin’!” he bellowed. “Save me!” And then he began to flounder around worse than ever.

The boys could not resist the temptation to laugh, and suddenly they burst out in a roar, in the midst of which Jeff suddenly stopped his struggling and arose to his feet in about two feet of water and mud. He gazed at the broken-down hammock ruefully, and then his eyes wandered in the direction of those who were taking in the scene.

“Wha—wha—what’s dis?” he stammered. “Who—who— How—how did I come in dat brook?”

“Jeff, what were you doing in that hammock?” demanded Gif.

“I—I jest been restin’, Mr. Gif. Jest been restin’ a minute waitin’ for you young gen’lemen to get back,” answered the colored man lamely.

“Just been resting for a minute!” stormed Gif. “You were sleeping as soundly as a rock and snoring to beat the band.”

“And you let the supper burn up!” put in Jack.

“All those fine fish we caught, worthless!” added Spouter.

“Burnt up! Who says they’re burnt up?” cried the colored man, walking out of the brook and stamping the mud from his feet. “I didn’t burn nothin’.”

“Yes, you did. Everything is burnt,” answered Gif. “Just go and see for yourself. What are we going to do for dinner?”

Jeff started toward the back of the bungalow and then saw the pan of burnt fish and the other pan of burnt potatoes, both resting on the ground near the doorway. His face fell, but then, of a sudden, he turned around savagely.

“I don’t care! I didn’t mean to burn that supper up! You was so long comin’ I jest thought I’d rest a minute. You didn’t have no call to flop me into the water.”

“You’re lazy and good-for-nothing, Jeff,” answered Gif sternly. “The best thing you can do is to get out of this camp. I’d rather do the work myself than have you around.”

“Let him go,” answered Jack. “We can do the work between us. We’ve done such work before.”

“I don’t like it up here nohow,” said the colored man. “They’s too much to do with so many young fellows around. I’d rather go back.”

“Then you go,” answered Gif. “But remember, I’m going to write to my father and let him know just how lazy and worthless you’ve been here; and I’ll get the other boys to write too, so he’ll know the truth of the matter.”

“When do you want me to go back?” questioned the colored man, after a pause. He was now just a little bit scared.

“You can go back to-night if you want to, or otherwise to-morrow. But if you stay here to-night you clean up this muss and clean those frying pans. And you get busy and cook us something worth eating, and be quick about it,” returned Gif.

To this the colored man did not reply, but, taking up the frying pans, he disappeared into the kitchen. Presently the boys heard him clattering around among the kettles and pans and knew he was doing what he could to prepare another meal for them.

It took Jeff the best part of an hour to prepare another meal, and even then it was not as good as the boys would have wished. The colored fellow was very sullen, and they could see that he was on the point of breaking out. Gif, however, gave him no chance, and suggested that he take the morning train at Rocky Run for home.

“How is I goin’ to get to Rocky Run with my baggage?” asked Jeff.

“I’ll row you over directly after breakfast,” answered Gif.

“I’ll go with you, Gif,” said Jack.

During the night Jeff must have thought the matter over and come to the conclusion that he was in wrong, for he was up early in the morning and had an excellent breakfast awaiting the boys when they arose. He suggested in a roundabout way to Gif that he remain at the camp as originally intended.

“No, Jeff, I’ve made up my mind we’re going to do without you,” said Gif. “You’re too lazy and shiftless. You get your things together and Jack and I will row you over to Rocky Run where you can get the train and go home.”

The boys were ready at the appointed time, and much against his will Jeff proceeded to get his baggage into shape and then came down and got into the rowboat. In silence Gif and Jack rowed him to Rocky Run, arriving there some ten minutes before train time.

“Now there’s your ticket, Jeff,” said Gif, after he had procured it. “And that’s all.” And thereupon he and Jack left the colored man at the railroad station waiting for the train.

“It ain’t right,” said Jeff sullenly. “It ain’t right nohow. I came up here to have a job for the rest of the summer. It ain’t right to send me off. You’ll be sorry for it some day.”

To this neither of the boys made answer. They wished a few things from Mose Mumbleton’s store and they also wanted to know if any mail matter had come in the day before.

There were half a dozen letters, one from home, two from Valley Brook Farm, and several from their school chums.

“Hello, here’s news!” cried Gif, as he read one of the communications. “This is from Dan Soppinger, and he says he and Fatty Hendry and Ned Lowe and Walt Baxter are on an auto tour and expect to pass through Beldane in a couple of days, and if we’ll come there and show ’em the way they might visit our bungalow.”

“Good!” returned Jack. “I’d like first rate to see those lads. It will brighten things up a bit to have them at the camp.”

“Say, Jack! if those fellows would only stay over a few days it would give us a chance to get up a baseball match against the Longley bunch.”

“So it would! We’d have our six fellows here and Dan, Walt and Ned. I don’t suppose Fatty Hendry would care to play. He never was much at baseball.”

“He could be one of the umpires. We’d probably want two—one from each side. That is, unless we could get some outsider.”

“It would be better to have an outsider, Gif. They wouldn’t be satisfied with our man’s decisions and probably we wouldn’t be satisfied with the decisions from their side.”

“Well, anyway, we’ll have to go down to Beldane and meet them. Then we can talk the matter over. Maybe, after all, Longley won’t give us a match. You know how Tommy Flanders felt about it.”

“Yes. But I think Ted Maxwell has more influence with the crowd than Tommy Flanders.”

As before, Jack had a letter from Ruth. The girls were talking of returning to New York and then the crowd were to visit May Powell. Ruth wrote that her father was still somewhat sick and greatly worried over his business affairs and over the loss of his book of formulas.

“That certainly is a mystery, Jack,” said Gif, when the young major mentioned the matter to him. “I don’t see why he doesn’t get some first-class detectives on the trail of those thieves.”

“I suppose he has somebody on the case,” answered Jack. “It’s pretty hard, though, to do anything if you haven’t got some sort of clue to work on.”

“I think I’d follow up the Germans who sold the formulas in the first place.”

“As for that, he is convinced that they were perfectly honest in the matter. I think the thing to do is to follow up those two other men they mentioned, Lemrech and Norris.”

Having finished reading their letters and placing the letters for the other lads in their pockets, Gif and Jack procured such supplies as the camp needed, paid for them, and started down toward their rowboat. As they were stowing their supplies away they glanced along the lakeshore and were somewhat surprised to see one of the boats from the Willoughby camp tied up there. Then they saw Halliday, Sands and the youth called Fiddler talking earnestly to Jeff. They had been told that the morning train was late and would not arrive for a good half hour.

“I wonder what those fellows want of Jeff. They don’t know him,” said Jack curiously.

The boys from Colby were on the point of rowing back to the bungalow when suddenly Billy Sands came running forward, hailing them.

“What do you want, Sands?” questioned Gif, bringing the rowboat to a stop.

“I want to ask you something about this colored man,” answered Sands. “He worked for you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Is he honest and all that sort of thing?”

“He’s honest so far as we know.”

“Pretty good cook, too, isn’t he?”

“Sometimes. What do you want to know for?”

“Why, we’re thinking of taking him up to our camp. We’re tired of doing our own work.”

“Well, you’re welcome to Jeff if you want him. We’re through with him. We prefer to do our own work.”

“I see.” Sands paused for a moment. “You say he’s perfectly honest?”

“As far as we know.”

“And he’s a fairly good cook?”

“Yes.”

“Hum!” Sands rubbed his chin reflectively. “Well, I think maybe we’ll give him a chance. It’s awfully hard to get anybody up here.” And thereupon rather abruptly he started to walk back to his cronies.