“No trouble about it, Sam,” was the reply. “We’ve got extra cots and plenty of room to set them up. And there’s always something to eat. We’re very glad to have visitors. Wish we had more of them. Tell your friends to come as guests of The Wigwam for as long as they like to stay.” Sam thanked the Chief gratefully and hurried off to send a reply, and four days later Sam and Steve walked over to Indian Lake and met the visitors on the arrival of the eleven-twenty train, which to-day rambled in at a quarter to twelve. They came back in an ancient vehicle obtained from the local livery stable, laughed and chattered all the way, and descended in front of The Wigwam a few minutes late for dinner. Each of the visitors carried a suit-case and Sidney Morris also had with him a large bundle wrapped in blue paper, which, when Sam could no longer restrain his curiosity, Sid informed him, contained two four-pound boxes of mixed chocolates. “For the crowd, you know,” explained Sid. “Kids are usually crazy about candy. I remember last summer at the lake I’d have given ten dollars a pound for the stuff lots of times. You’d better take charge of it, Sam, and ladle it out to them after dinner.” “We almost missed the train while he went after that,” said Tom Pollock. “We had to run all the way from Budlong’s to the station.” “It was fine of you,” said Sam, “and the fellows will be tickled to death.” “_Sickened_ to death, you mean,” chuckled Steve Brown. The new arrivals caused much interest in camp, and after siesta--Tom and Sidney, being warned of that period of enforced quiet, wandered off into the woods--they were duly presented to most of the older chaps. The candy was fairly distributed, one big box going to The Wigwam and one to The Tepee, and made a great hit. For the next hour or two Sidney was easily the most popular fellow in camp! The Brownies and Indians held practice that afternoon--they were to meet on the morrow--and Tom and Sidney volunteered for service, Tom with the Indians and Sid with Steve’s team. Tom’s fame as a pitcher soon got about and some of the boys asked Sam if he wouldn’t get Tom to pitch a little for them. So, after practice was over, Sam donned a mask and protector and Tom walked to the box. “All right, fellows!” called Sam, after Tom had slammed a dozen balls over in the warming-up process. “Who wants to knock the first home run?” Rather sheepishly, Joe Groom picked out a bat and stood up at the plate. Steve Brown smilingly offered to umpire. “Don’t knock him out of the box, Joe,” counselled someone. “I want a hit myself.” “That’s right, Joe. Be easy with him. A three-bagger will do!” Sam stooped and held three fingers against his mitt, Tom wound up, stepped forward easily, and the ball travelled to the plate. Joe, frowning intently, swung. The ball thumped into Sam’s mitt. “Strike!” droned Steve, and the audience chuckled. Joe grinned and tapped his bat on the plate.