"I've got our provisions in mind when I designate them all under the general name of bacon, you understand, Steve." "But how are they in danger of being carried off, Jack? I wonder now if you suspect that hungry old mother cat would follow us all the way here, with the idea of making a night raid on our well stocked larder. Could she know we must have plenty of grub along in camp? Please explain a little further, won't you, Jack?" "It's a two-legged thief I've got in mind, you see," he was told. "Have you forgotten what we said that perhaps the easiest way to make us clear out of the Pontico Hills country would be by stripping us of all our grub? Well, it's to prevent the possibility of such a calamity overtaking us that I'm working this game right now." Steve evinced new interest on hearing this. He even bestirred himself, and limped over to see what Jack was doing at closer range. After watching for a short time, he gave a laugh as though he had solved the puzzling mystery. "Oh! I'm on to your fine game now, all right, Jack, old scout!" he exclaimed, as he saw the other fasten one end of the cord to a collection of tins which he had assembled in a heap. "It's going to be a sort of home-made alarm clock, I reckon. You've fixed that cord low down near the ground, so a man can't get near the wagon without brushing up against it. When he does he's apt to break the cord and that'll let the bunch of tins drop down from where they're dangling. Whoop! what a glorious jangle there'll be about that time. I warrant you the intended thief will get the scare of his sweet life, and how he will run like mad!" "You've guessed it finally, Steve, though it did take you a long while," Jack assured him. "And we'll have the gun handy, so as to send a shot up in the air, and add to his terror. Of course I may be off in my guess, and no one may visit us tonight, or any other night during our stay. But then lots of business men insure their houses and their goods when they never dream that they will have a fire. This cord is our insurance policy." "Yes," sang out Toby, who had been eagerly listening to all this talk, although up to that point taking no part in the same, "an ounce of prevention is always better than a whole pound of cure. They say, too, that a stitch in time saves nine, though I've had many a one in my side, and it didn't save me at all. But Jack, it's a bully good scheme all right, and ought to work first rate." "I can just imagine three fellows about our size piling out in the wee small hours of the night, clad in their striped pajamas, and hearing a scared individual go whooping through the woods, banging up against every other tree as he runs. It will be a great picnic, for us I mean, boys; and I'm half hoping he does come along this very night." "How about that rain, Steve?" asked Jack, quietly.