Well, that was that. If there was anything I liked better than anything else, it was to be alone with only our gang, when it can be its own boss, even though we all liked Barry a lot and would do anything he said any time. “Bill’s _my_ boss,” Dragonfly said. I looked at Dragonfly and then at Big Jim, and winked. Big Jim grinned back, and then said to all of us, “Let’s get the camp chores done.” Then he gave commands to different ones of us to do different things. Poetry and I had the job of burying the entrails and heads of some fish which Barry’d caught, and which had just been cleaned before he left,--that being the best thing to do with fish heads and other parts of the fish that you aren’t going to eat. “The spade’s in Barry’s tent,” Big Jim said, and a minute later Poetry and I were on our way up along the shore to the burying place. We hadn’t gone more than fifty yards when we heard somebody coming behind us on the run, and it was Dragonfly, with an excited face, who said, “You crazy goofs! You going to dig for the treasure without letting me go along?” “Why hello, my Man Friday!” I said pleasantly, and told him what we were having to do. “Here--you carry the spade and do the digging.” And Poetry said, “And you can carry these fish insides,” and with that he handed him a smallish pail he’d been carrying. But Dragonfly wouldn’t, so I let him disobey for once. When we got to the place, we saw all kinds of little mounds of fresh dirt where other fish entrails had been buried. And then all of a sudden Poetry said, “Hey, here’s fish heads scattered all over the ground here!” I looked, and sure enough, he was right. All around there were old half-eaten bullheads, and the eyes and ugly noses of walleyed pike and two or three spatulate-shaped snouts of big northern pike. “Hey!” Dragonfly said. “Somebody’s been digging them up”--and then he grabbed his nose just in time to stop most of what might have been several very noisy sneezes, and said, “I--_kerchew!_--I-smell--_kerchew!_--s-something _d-dead_.” Well, that was that, and I got a sinking feeling in my stomach, ’cause right away I knew that what we’d smelled back in the mystery cabin, and around the outside, was maybe something like this. “It’s raccoons,” I heard a voice saying behind us, and recognized it as Circus’s voice, his pop being a hunter as you know, and he would know about coons’ habits. “Big Jim sent me to tell you guys to bury’m deep, ’cause the chipmunks and coons’ve been digging’m all up again.” Well, we buried our stuff very deep, each one of us doing a little bit, but for some reason I wasn’t feeling very happy. I seemed to feel that all the mystery and excitement we’d been having and which had been getting more exciting every minute, was all made out of our own imagination.