When Big Thompson returned from his hunt, half an hour later, carrying over his shoulder a haunch of venison wrapped in the skin of a red deer, he was astonished to find his employer hard at work gathering a supply of fuel. His bed of boughs had been removed, and its place was occupied by a roaring fire, which had been kindled close against the base of the rock. “I did that because we haven’t any blankets, and the night promises to be a cold one,” said Oscar, who was himself again. “As soon as the ground and the rock are sufficiently warmed we’ll take the fire away, put our beds there, and sleep as comfortably as we could in the cabin.” “Sho!” exclaimed the guide. “I have warmed my bed that way lots of times. But who larnt ye so much?” “I got the idea from a book I read long ago.” The guide, who had often wondered at his young employer’s knowledge of woodcraft, was obliged to confess that books might be of some use, after all. They had certainly been of use to Oscar, who knew many things about a hunter’s life with which the majority of sportsmen into whose company Big Thompson had been thrown were entirely unacquainted. By the time the steaks which the hunter cut from the haunch had been broiled on the coals, Oscar had thrown together a pile of firewood large enough to last all night. The fire threw out a very bright light; and, by the aid of it, he worked at his bear until nearly twelve o’clock. Big Thompson had in the meantime raked the fire away from the rock and placed two beds of boughs there, and when Oscar took possession of the one that had been arranged for himself he was surprised to find how warm and comfortable it was. His sleep was sound and refreshing, in spite of the want of blankets; and the next morning’s breakfast, although it consisted of nothing but a piece of venison washed down with a cup of cold water from the brook, was eaten with a relish. At nine o’clock the hunters started for their camp in the valley, Big Thompson leading the way with the skin and bones of Old Ephraim on his back, and Oscar following with the hide of the red deer, which was much too valuable to be left behind for the wolves. The boy’s load grew larger and heavier before they reached the cabin, for they stopped on the way to look at his traps. Some of them had been sprung without catching anything; in others the bait was missing (this proved that that thieving wolverine had been at it again); but the rest had done their full duty, and twenty dollars’ worth of skins were that night added to those that were to be sold to replace the amount he had taken from the committee’s money.