The eels were washed and skinned, and soon were hissing and spluttering delightfully in the mutton fat in the billy. The two biggest eels, weighing more than half a pound each, were treated in this manner, and proved quite as good as Chippy had promised. While the hungry scouts devoured them, some smaller ones were set on to boil, for the Raven had heard boiled eels were good also, though he hadn't tried them. So the billy was rubbed round and three parts filled with water, and on went some more eels in a new form of cookery. When it came to the test of eating, the scouts did not think the boiled were quite so tasty as the fried, but they vanished before their raging appetites, and the two boys ate every eel they had sniggled. They built up their fire and turned in before the daylight had gone, for they were fatigued by the long journey they had made that day. 'If a scritch-owl turns up this time,' chuckled Chippy, 'we'll just turn over and let 'im scritch.' 'And if a jackass rambles round, we won't be frightened and make three instead of one,' laughed Dick. About one in the morning Dick was aroused from sleep by finding that he was very uncomfortable. The bed lacked the support of the side-logs, and the pine-tops had worked loose, and Dick had worked through them, and was lying on the ground. His hip-joint was aching, and the discomfort had awakened him. 'Hallo,' thought Dick, on recognising what had happened, 'I've reached the bottom shelf. I shall have to dig that little hole about the size of a teacup which B.-P. recommends for you to tuck your hip-joint in.' He turned over on his back and lay still for a few moments. The night was very still and bright, and the moon was low down in the west, but clear, and shining strongly. The Raven was soundly asleep, and his breathing was deep and regular. Dick sat up and looked at the fire. It had burned down to a mass of embers hidden under a coating of ashes. He rolled out of his blanket, got up, and threw an armful of sticks on the fire. They began to crackle at once, and he stood for an instant to watch them. Suddenly he lifted his head and sniffed: the wind was tainted as it blew lightly towards him along the lee of the wood: he could smell tobacco-smoke. 'Who's about?' thought Dick. 'What does it mean? We're far off from any village according to the map. But that's tobacco, and no mistake. I'll have a look round.' He glanced at his companion, but Chippy was still wrapped in heavy slumber. Dick stepped forward, then paused. 'No, I won't wake him,' murmured the Wolf. 'It would be a shame to fetch him up for nothing. I'll see who's in the neighbourhood first.' Dick slipped on his shoes, drew the laces tight, for they were rove scout fashion, tucked in the ends, took his staff, and began to creep up-wind like a hare stealing from its form. CHAPTER XLI THE POACHERS