"No, as we came along over the dunes he saw us and scooted off!" Thus Corporal Leon Chase again took up the thread of the story. "But Nix an' I looked back as we walked along the beach; it was getting dusk then, but we made out his figure disappearing into a large shed belonging to that bungalow." "I hope he wasn't up to any mischief," said the scoutmaster gravely. "Now! let's forget about him. Haven't any of you other scouts some contribution to make to to-night's powwow about things you've observed during the day?" "Mr. Scoutmaster, I have!" Marcoo lifted his head upon the opposite side of the camp-fire where he lay, breast downward, on the sand. "Colin and I and two members of the Seal Patrol, Howsie and Jemmie Ahern, saw an _awfully_ big heap of clam-shells between two sand-hills on the shore-edge of the beach. They were partly covered with sand; but we dug them out; and--somehow--they looked as if they had been there for ages." "Likely enough, they had! The Indians used to hold clam-bakes here." The firelight danced upon the scoutmaster's white teeth; he greatly enjoyed the camp-fire powwow. "You see, fellows, this fine, white sand is something like snow--but snow which doesn't harden--the wind blows it into a drift; then, perhaps, another big gale comes along, picks up the drift and deposits it somewhere else. That's what uncovered your clam-shells." "Then how is it these white dunes aren't traveling round the country?" Colin waved his arm toward the neighboring sand-hills with a laugh. "Because they are held in place by the vegetation that quickly sprang up on and between them. That beach-grass has very coarse strong roots which interlace under the surface. Now! let's listen to Toiney singing; we must be merry, seeing it's our second last night in camp." Scoutmaster Estey waved his hand toward his assistant in the blue shirt and tasseled cap. Toiney, tiring of the conversation which it was an effort for him to follow, was crooning softly an old French ditty wherewith he had been sung to sleep by his grandfather when he was a black-eyed babe in a saffron-hued night-cap and gown:-- "À la clair-e fontain-e M'en allant promener, J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle, Que je m'y suis baigné!" "Oh! you took a walk near the fountain and found the water so fine that you went in bathing!" cried one and another of the scouts who were in their first year in high school. "Must have been a pretty big fountain! Go ahead: what did you do next, Toiney?" But the singer had suddenly sprung to his feet and stood, an alert, tense figure, in the flickering twilight. "_Gard' donc!_" he cried gutturally, while the cat-like breeze capered round him, flicking his short red tassel, catching at his legs in their queer high boots. "_Gard' donc!_ de littal light in de sky--engh? _Sapré tonnerre!_ I'll t'ink shee's fire, me. No camp-fire, _non_! Beeg fire--engh? _V'là! V'là!_"