It was a distinctly informal council-fire. There were no special stunts or games or competitions, as there would be later; merely songs, a few announcements, and finally, as the fire died down to glowing embers, a story or two. But Dale Tompkins had rarely been more perfectly content. Drawn together, perhaps, by the events of the afternoon and by the interesting secret they held in common, the members of Tent Three were gathered in a group on one side of the circle. Whether by accident or design, Dale sat close to Ranny and a little behind him, where he could watch the play of light and shadow on the leader's handsome face. Scarcely a word passed between them, but Dale was conscious of something in the other's manner which made him wonder, with a thrill, whether the hateful barrier that had existed for so long between them wasn't growing a shade less formidable. Suppose some day it should vanish altogether! Suppose the time came when they could be real friends of the sort he had always dreamed about! He told himself that it was probably all imagination, but this did not take away his pleasure in the picture. And when Ranny, lazily shifting his lounging attitude, leaned carelessly back against the knees of the boy behind him, Dale thrilled to the touch almost as much as he would have done had he not felt the other to be quite unconscious of his presence. The routine of the second morning in camp was much the same as the first had been. But directly after dinner the fellows piled into boats and rowed out to where the _Aquita_ was anchored. As many as the power-boat would hold went aboard, leaving the rest, with a large assortment of crab-nets, hooks, lines, bait-boxes, and the like, in the trailers. They made a hilarious bunch as they chugged upstream past the straggling fishing-village, under the bridge, and on between the low banks of sedge and tough water-growth that lined the little river. But the noise was as nothing compared with the racket that began when they anchored and dispersed for the afternoon sport. Some took to the boats, others went ashore and fished from the bank, while a few stayed on the _Aquita_. The tide was out and it was an ideal spot for crabbing. In fact, the creatures were so plentiful that many of the boys abandoned the slower, more cautious method of luring them to the surface with bait, and took to scooping them off the bottom with nets, to the accompaniment of excited shouts and yells and much splashing of mud and water. They kept at it for about two hours, and when the whistle summoned them back to the motor-boat they brought along a catch big enough to furnish several meals for the entire camp.