Whatever other faults he may have had, Pickton never objected to doing a fair share of work. He fell to at the dish washing while Perth opened up blankets for the night. The campfire was very cheerful, though the gasoline stove of their outfit had been found more convenient for cooking, for all three lads lacked a broad camping experience. So more wood was brought to keep the fire blazing, and in all the odd chores performed, necessary or otherwise, the sum total of Mr. Soapy Games' contribution to the labor was the opening of his own suit case to find a clean shirt he wished to put on in the morning. Although their supper and a vigorous washing of dusty, dirty hands and faces (which, quite contrary to precedent, followed rather than preceded their repast), had made each member of the Trio more optimistic than they had lately been, they still felt apprehensive concerning the swarthy giant of a fellow on whose land they were. Fred insisted that he meant only kindness, but when asked why the man should want to be more than decently civil to utter strangers, he could only answer, "Good Samaritan!" All night long Pickton scarcely slept, so doubtful of Mr. Blackbeard's seemingly good intentions was he. Gaines had merely said, "Well, you fellows have got to keep your eyes open. I sleep sound as a bat and would never wake up no matter what happened." Then he had growled a great deal about the quality of his bed until at last he was snoring tremendously. Perth's confidence in the "Good Samaritan" gave him a sense of real security and he dozed off quickly. And in the meantime Mr. Blackbeard himself had returned to his homely, unpainted house and sat himself down with Mrs. Blackbeard on the kitchen doorstep. "Likely young fellers," said he. "Might have asked 'em into the house but they'd probably rather sleep out. Beat's all where some folks get all the money, Lizzie!" His tone was one of wonder, rather than complaint. "Here's them snips of young shavers tearin' over the country havin' a good time while you,--you that's worth a hay-rack load of 'em, ain't got a fairly good go-to-meetin' gingham dress, an' won't have till we sell the wheat that ain't hardly mor'n headed out yet. Beat's all, don't it?" "Well, well, it's all right, John! Everybody has their good times, accordin' to their different ways an' means," the woman answered simply. "We have ours an' plenty enough to be thankful for, every day of our lives." The whole of which goes to show that for every Eli Gouger in the world there is somewhere a true and honest, manly man bringing the general average up. Also, that big, generous hearts are often found in rough exteriors, and some of earth's truest nobility dwelling in obscure places. But-- "Gee Whiz! This is another day!" exclaimed Freddy Perth, several hours later, sitting up suddenly to find the sunlight filtering in through the chestnut branches. And, quite remarkable as he seemed to think it, it was. CHAPTER XII DISCOVERED