It seemed to me as if the fellow was sorry he had said that about maps. He just said, “Oh, I don’t know, you hear a lot about Temple Camp all over. It’s the big show around here.” “Even in Europe they heard of us,” Pee-wee shouted. “It’s been in the movies how we have pow-wows and war dances and things.” “Do you have them every week?” the sharpy asked us. “You mean the dances?” Brent said. “Sure, drop over some time.” I said, “We have them every Friday and a week from Wednesday. We always wind up with an Indian dance named after the Indian motorcycle. We always have a St. Vitus’ dance to close the season.” He just looked at us, I guess he didn’t know what to make of us. He looked kind of as if he was trying to make out if we really had dances over there. He said, “How do you get over there? Follow the trail around?” “Sure,” Warde said. “Either way it takes you right there.” He just stared at us vacant like and fixed his collar all nice with his left hand. “Any Janes?” he asked us. [Illustration: “ANY JANES?” HE ASKED US.] “You said it,” Warde told him. “You got a dance floor?” he wanted to know. I said, “No, we dance right on the grass. It’s the latest craze; we’re known as grass-hoppers. Didn’t you ever hear of the rubber band? They furnish the music.” Gee whiz, he didn’t seem to be mad at all. And he didn’t laugh either. I guess he was really sorry thinking that maybe there were some dances that he missed. Maybe he was sorry that he could only go to one at a time. CHAPTER XXI THIRTY-FOUR CENTS We left him standing near the tree and started rowing through the outlet. The right name of the outlet is Dawson’s Creek, but we always call it the outlet. By that time it was late in the afternoon, and Warde said if we were going to hike around the way the girls had said we ought to telephone to camp. I said, “We can telephone when we get to Brookside.” “Well, let’s not forget to do it,” Brent said. “What about that tin box at the bottom of the lake?” Hervey asked. “I thought so,” Brent said, kind of laughing. “Forget it. Nobody knows where it is. Maybe it isn’t. “The fellow said it had money in it,” Hervey said. “It’s not drawing any interest down there.” Brent said, “Well, it’s not supposed to be attracting any interest up here either, so forget it. There are nuts all over the country hunting for Captain Kidd’s treasure.” “I’d like to dive for that,” Hervey said. “Oh, I suppose you would,” Warde told him. “You know there’s no diving allowed away from the springboard. I’ll tell you where the tin box is if you want to know; it’s in your head.” “It’s in the sharpy’s head too,” I said. Brent said, “Well, there’s plenty of room there for it. Let it stay there.” “He said something about a map,” Hervey went on. “It’s going to be a nice moonlight night,” Brent said. “How do you suppose he knows about that?” Hervey asked.