That reminded Jelly of a story that he had heard his father tell. Moreover, he assured them seriously, it was a _true_ story. “Well,” sighed Rob, “go ahead with it and get it off your mind.” Whether it was true or not, it was very long and somewhat complicated and the audience soon gave up trying to follow its intricacies. Rob went to sleep and snored shamelessly. This annoyed Jelly and he lost connection. “And so――and so――Where was I?” “The druggist was just filling the prescription,” replied Evan. “Whereupon,” murmured Malcolm sleepily, “the goat climbed on to the counter and ate up the nail-files, shrieking in a high falsetto voice, ‘Death to tyrants!’ But see, who comes here? Ah, ’tis our hero! Vaulting nimbly upon the back of his restless steed Diamond Dick Tolliver drew his trusty bean-shooter and waving it above his head cried――” “Oh, shut up, Malcolm! Can’t you let me tell my story?” “Proceed,” breathed Malcolm sweetly. “Wake me when you’re through, Jelly.” So Jelly went on. Ten minutes later he paused at the climax of his narrative. “What do you think of that?” he asked beamingly. There was no reply: His three auditors were sound asleep. Jelly viewed them disgustedly one after another. Then he lay down on his back, put an arm under his head and followed the general example. CHAPTER XI JELLY CLIMBS A TREE Evan was the first to awake. For some time he had been dimly conscious of discomfort. The rocks were very hard and there was a chilliness in the air that sent his thoughts groping sleepily toward the fire. But when he sat up stiffly and looked for the fire he saw only a pile of ashes and cinders from which a few curls of smoke arose. Then he looked about him in surprise. The world was shut out by a great gray fog. Even the farther edge of the rock, only some forty feet distant, was scarcely discernible. He drew his hand along his sleeve and found that his clothes were saturated with moisture. He awakened the others and it was agreed that it was time to be going. “We must be in a cloud,” said Malcolm. But Rob declared that they weren’t high enough to get into clouds. “It’s just a plain every-day fog,” he said. “But it’s certainly a wonder. What time is it? Who’s got a watch?” “Two twenty-three,” replied Evan. “I’ll have to hurry or I won’t get down in time for football practice.” “Me too,” said Jelly. “Let’s get the things packed up and start.” “Wish that fire hadn’t gone out,” growled Rob, shivering in his wet clothes as he helped the others collect the tin dinner service. “I feel like a clam.” “I say nothing of how you look,” remarked Malcolm pleasantly. “Where’s that other piece of sacking? And where’s the string got to?” “Blown away, probably,” said Evan. “Why not put all the things into one bundle and take turns carrying it? It won’t be very heavy, anyhow.”