"Was it an accident?" asked Bluff, looking to Frank for an opinion. "What do you think, Jerry?" demanded the leader. "It couldn't have been an accident, and I'm dead sure of it," was the reply. "Suppose you state your reasons then." "First, we banked the fire down as usual before crawling into bed. Then there wasn't a particle of wind to scatter the sparks. And last, but not least, those heaps of dead leaves were carried here! I happen to know that place was just about bare last evening!" replied the other, seriously. Will uttered an exclamation of wonder and alarm. "Do you really mean to say that some fellows would be mean enough to try and burn our camp?" he asked. "I wouldn't put it past that Andy Lasher. Talk to me about your heathen! he's just about equal to any of 'em. But don't you agree with me, Frank?" "Certainly I do, because I happen to have a strong bit of evidence which I picked up out there close to the burning leaves." He held something up. "A match-box!" exclaimed Will. "Do any of you own that?" "Pass it around. I never saw it before," declared Jerry, as he handled the little silver article in which several matches still remained. "Well, I have, then," remarked Bluff, suddenly, as he stared at the trophy; "and just as I thought, here are two initials on it." "What are they?" asked Jerry, showing excitement. "H.B." "That doesn't cover any of Andy's crowd, though," said Jerry, seemingly disappointed. "The real owner of this match-box is Herman Bancroft," announced Bluff; "I've had it in my hands more than once. You know I went with him for a time." "He wanted to join our Rod, Gun and Camera Club, but the black ball dished his chances. Perhaps Herman was mad about that; perhaps he even followed us up here, and has tried to get even," suggested Will. "That's hard to believe, for he isn't the bad fellow some people say. A little wild, but with a good heart. I'd rather believe he lost it, and one of that crowd picked it up," said Bluff, sturdily. "That's just like you, Bluff, standing up for a friend. Well, I'm rather inclined to believe the same way. Anyhow, it was a mighty mean dodge. If that Andy Lasher keeps on he'll get in a peck of trouble sooner or later. Why, for such a thing as this he deserves a peppering of shot at a distance," said Frank, indignantly. "It was criminal, that's what. We might have been smothered in our beds," remarked Bluff. "Or my camera might have been utterly destroyed," wailed Will. Old Toby said nothing, but he cast many an anxious look around at the adjacent trees, as if he had an idea lingering under his woolly pate that in some way or other this new disaster might have a connection with the shooting of the wildcat. Things assumed a normal aspect after a while, and only for the scent of burnt leaves no one would dream that the camp had come near destruction. But all the inmates of Kamp Kill Kare slept, so to speak, "with one eye open" during the balance of that night.