Sam and Step rushed into the camp, and emerged with their arms filled with heavy coverings. Tom made use of two, while the others were distributed among the boys. Luckily they had turned in “all standing” and were fully clothed except for their shoes, which Step recovered by a second trip into the building. “Lon’s safe--saw him in there,” said he. “When he heard we were all right he stayed to help fight the fire. Gee, but the kitchen’s a furnace!” “I know--I saw it, and I don’t understand it,” Orkney declared. “There was some grease about, of course--can’t help that with all the frying. Still, the way the blaze ran----” There he checked himself. “You mean you suspect----?” queried Step. “I mean it spread mighty fast,” said Orkney drily. “Think it caught from the stove, don’t you?” “Huh! Cook’s a very careful man.” A bucket brigade was forming to bring water from a hole chopped in the ice of the stream, and the boys volunteered their services. Somebody had found a ladder, and now the fire was being attacked from the roof as well as below. Mr. Kane had plenty of men, and employed them skilfully, though, of course, his equipment was limited. The roof of the ell fell in, and for a few minutes flames shot through the opening thus left, but their inroads upon the main camp were quickly checked, the heavy logs of the walls, the snow, and the lack of wind all contributing to the result. In half an hour the fire was under control, and in another Mr. Kane officially declared it out. Two or three men were told off to build a new partition, temporarily filling the gap caused by the fire, and the rest of the crew and the boys gathered about the big stove in the main camp. Garments drenched in the bucket brigade service were hung up to dry; the cook, now quite recovered, brewed a great can of steaming tea. Then there was a sort of informal roll call. None of the boys appeared to be the worse for his adventures, and the lumberjacks seemed to find the break in the monotony of life rather enjoyable. But the foreman, “counting noses,” as he put it, made a startling discovery. Peter Groche was missing! Nobody could recall seeing the man after the alarm was given. Anxious search of the ruins of the ell, conducted by the aid of lanterns, revealed no charred evidences that he had perished. It led, however, to the discovery of a half-burned cloth, smoked and discolored, and giving forth the unmistakable smell of kerosene. The cook rushed out of the camp, returning presently with a five-gallon can. “See this!” he cried excitedly. “And this!” He held the can upside down, but no stream poured from its open neck. “Nigh full ’twas yesterday, and now it’s dry as a bone! That’s why the fire went through my place in jumps. He must ’a’ sneaked in and soused everything with the stuff after I went to sleep.” “Huh! He might ’a’ done it with a waterin’ cart for all you’d knowed it, once you got to snorin’!” jeered one of the choppers.