“I guess that old Dutchman is abaout right,” he nodded; “a feller that can’t take a joke hadn’t better be playin’ ’em on other folks. Furthermore, yeou can’t never be sure that the dumb duffer yeou’re havin’ fun with ain’t got a knockout come-back hid up his sleeve. Guess I’ll forgit it and try to show that I ain’t a squealer. Maybe I won’t hug that Dutch boy when I see him, but, anyhaow, I’ll agree not to hand him a wallopin’.” CHAPTER XXIV. STRANGE BEHAVIOR OF SLEUTH. Before long Piper grew restless, and his uneasiness was noticed by the others. “What’s the mum-matter with you, Sleuth?” questioned Springer. “You’re as fidgety as a dog with fleas.” Piper was stalking up and down in front of the tent. Without answering Springer’s question, he turned to Grant and asked the time. “Nine o’clock,” said Rodney, after looking at his watch. “I feel,” said Sleuth—“I feel the call of the wild. The wilderness is beckoning me to its bosom.” “He’s got ’em again,” declared Crane. “I must respond to the call. I must fare forth into the solitudes. I’m going away from here.” “He’s going away from here,” repeated Grant solemnly. “Well, I fuf-feel like doing something myself,” confessed Springer. “I’m with you, Sleuthy.” “You are _not_,” retorted Piper positively. “I desire not your society nor that of anyone here. Alone I shall tread the dim trails of the forest.” “I cal’late he’s goin’ after Injun scalps,” said Sile. Piper turned a piercing look on the lanky fellow. “Of late,” he said, “although my mind has been greatly occupied with other matters, I have given a little thought to a most peculiar occurrence which transpired on the first night after we pitched our camp in the wilderness. The party from whom I obtained the sleeping bag that I brought with me had been keeping that bag in the attic of his settlement home, and it is not often that common black ants penetrate to the attic of a house and make their nests there. I likewise recall that, ere I sought to occupy the bag for the night, someone made remarks about the probability that it would be hot to sleep in and would cause me to itch. Furthermore, in summing up, I remember a certain individual who, after I had gotten into the bag, took great pains to tie it up securely around my neck, so that I could not get out without assistance. Although I may not lift the scalp of some bloodthirsty Wampanoag, I will confess that these meditations of which I speak have led me to thirst for the topknot of a certain paleface who thinks himself very smart—and _was_ smart, in a certain sense, on an occasion not far remote.” “Why, Sleuth,” drawled Crane, “I hope yeou don’t think——”