If Mr. Carleton had made up his mind to put himself on friendly terms with the youngsters of Southport, despite his natural inclinations, he certainly knew how to go about it. Witness his appearance, the following day, in the course of the forenoon, at the camp of Joe Hinman and the rest of Harvey’s crew, as they were making their preparations for dinner. “Well, you boys certainly have it nice and comfortable down here,” he said, cheerily, advancing to where Joe Hinman was stirring a bed of coals, ready for the fry-pan, while two of the boys were finishing the cleaning of a mess of fish down by the water’s edge. “I’ve done this sort of thing myself, and I declare I believe I’d like a week of it now better than living at a hotel or a boarding-house. Good camp you’ve got there. “That makes me hungrier than I’ve been for a long time,” he added, as Joe proceeded to cut several slivers of fat pork and put them into the fry-pan, where they sizzled appetizingly. “Better stop and take dinner with us,” suggested Joe. “We’ve got plenty to eat, such as it is. We’ll give you some of the best fish you ever tasted, and a good cup of coffee, and a mess of fritters.” “Fine!” exclaimed Mr. Carleton. “You’re lads after my own heart. I’ll watch you do the work and then I’ll help you eat up the food.” And Mr. Carleton, smiling, seated himself on the ground, with his back against a tree, lighted a cigar, and watched operations comfortably. He proved very good company, too, at dinner. For he had a fund of stories to amuse the campers; and he was heartily interested in their own exploits—and particularly in their account of recent adventures down in the Thoroughfare, where Harry Brackett and his companions had been defeated. “Now I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” he exclaimed, enthusiastically, as they were finishing their camp-fire meal, “I’m in for some fun, just as much as you are. If you will go ahead and dig some clams this afternoon, I’ll go up to the store and order a lot of fruit and nuts and that sort of stuff, and anything else that I see that looks good. “I saw some chickens hanging up there, too, that will do to broil. I’ll get enough for a crowd. You tell the fellows up above in that camp there,—you know them, I suppose,—well, you get them and anybody else you like. And we’ll build a big fire down here this evening and have the time of our lives.” “Hooray!” cried young Tim Reardon. “Joe Warren and the others would like to come in on that. How about two more, besides—two fellows that own that yacht, the _Viking_?” “Just the thing,” replied Mr. Carleton. “As many as you like.” There was no more work on the _Surprise_ for the rest of that day. A man who was willing to buy good things for the boys with that recklessness didn’t come to town every day, nor once in a summer. “He says his name is Carleton,” explained young Tim to Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, some time later. “He says he’s in for a good time, and I guess he is by the looks of things.”