It was after ten when they finally made the landing, and nearly half past when, having helped the Chief make fast the boat for the night and partaken of a lunch of milk and crackers in the dining-hall, the Four tumbled into bed and put out their lanterns. And it was just about midnight when a heartrending shriek broke out on the stillness and brought every fellow into a sitting position in his bunk with visions of murder. In the momentary silence ensuing there was a loud _thump_ of a body striking the floor, the building shook on its foundations, and Mr. Verder’s alarmed voice rang out: “What’s the matter? Who yelled, fellows?” “_Wha-wha-wha-what’s the mu-mu-mu-matter?_” shrieked a voice midway down the hall. “I du-du-dunno what’s the mu-mu-mu--what’s the mu-mu-mu-matter! I only know I’m bu-bu-bu-being eat-tu-tu-eaten alive!” A howl of laughter rewarded the explanation, and lanterns were quickly lighted. Dan was one of the first on the scene. Tom, his blankets scattered around him, stood in his pajamas with staring eyes and busy hands. First he rubbed and slapped one part of his body, then another, and all the time he kept up an indignant stuttering. “Tu-tu-talk about pu-pu-pu-pins an’ nu-nu-needles! Gu-gu-gee! Su-su-somebody’s put a whole pu-pu-pu-package of ’em in mu-mu-my bed!” “Shut up your howling,” said Dan with a grin. “What’s the fun?” “_Fu-fu-fun!_” yelled Tom. “I wish you had it!” “Had what?” “Wha-wha-whatever it is, you bu-bu-bu-blamed idiot!” answered Tom wrathfully. Then, with a sudden shriek, he leaped a foot into the air, grabbed his pajamas above his left knee, and danced nimbly about the floor, at last becoming entangled in the blankets and tumbling headlong at the feet of Mr. Verder, who came hurrying up. Every fellow was on hand by that time, and Tom was pulled sputtering to his feet. Mr. Verder took the nearest lantern and investigated. The cause of Tom’s unhappiness wasn’t far to seek. Over the bed and blankets swarmed a veritable army of big black ants! “Ants!” said Mr. Verder, laughing. “What are you doing, Ferris, studying entomology?” “Probably _ant_omology,” hazarded Nelson. “Ants?” exclaimed Tom, still rubbing himself busily. “Ants! Gee, I thought they were bu-bu-bu-bees at least! They haven’t done a th-th-th-thing tu-tu-tu-to me, sir!” “Well, I’m sorry, Ferris,” said the councilor. “The Doctor will get you something to put on the bites. But what are they doing on your bed?” “I gu-gu-guess it’s the cu-cu-cu-candy, sir,” said Tom sheepishly. “Candy? What candy?” For answer Tom raised the mattress, revealing a box about which the ants were crawling excitedly to and fro. “Well,” said Mr. Verder when the laughter had somewhat subsided, “after this you had better keep your candy somewhere else.”