Dinner was at half-past twelve, and, following it, came thirty minutes of siesta when every occupant of the camp, barring Kitty-Bett and Jerry, the chore-boy, was required to lie on his bed and keep absolutely quiet. The boys corrupted the word to “sister” and, most of them, thoroughly disliked that period. At two o’clock came recreation until four-thirty. There were two fairly good tennis courts and a ball-field about a quarter of a mile from camp. There, too, were set up standards for jumping and vaulting, and there was a ring for shot-putting and a stretch of fairly smooth turf used for sprinting. The boys were all required to take up some form of athletic endeavour and those two hours and a half from two to four-thirty constituted the busiest period of the day for Mr. Gifford, Steve Brown, and Sam. Steve instructed in tennis--he was a good player--and helped at anything else he could. Mr. Gifford presided over track and field athletics and Sam was given entire charge of baseball. With very few exceptions all the boys played ball or tried to. Three nines were formed, the members drawn by lot by Mr. Gifford, Steve, and Sam, each of whom acted as manager for his aggregation. Captains were then chosen and practice began. Regular games were played twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and by the end of a fortnight the keenest rivalry had developed and they were having some exciting, if not very scientific contests. The afternoon bathe, or “plunge,” as it was called, came at half-past four and was over at five. Supper was at five-thirty. The camp-fire was lighted at eight and boys and councillors gathered about it to talk over together the day’s happenings, make plans for the morrow and tell stories, sing songs and, finally, say prayers, and retire to the dormitories at nine. At ten o’clock the big lights were put out and after that quiet was supposed to prevail. Sometimes it didn’t, however, for all sorts of jokes were played in the darkness and quite frequently the councillors, at the end of the hall, would hear stealthy footsteps, muffled laughter, the sound of struggles and, sometimes, the crash of a cot whose wooden legs had been surreptitiously reversed beforehand and now deftly folded up underneath by the aid of a cord pulled, perhaps, from far down the hall. Sam was surprised to find that these larks were seldom interfered with by Mr. Gifford. If too much “rough-house” resulted the latter sent a cautioning, “That will do, fellows! Cut it out now!” travelling through the darkness and the usual result was instant quiet. “All the fun you like so long as it’s harmless” was the rule at The Wigwam.