He, however, seemed to have forgotten his queer words, and, striding to the jumbled pile of canvas, he began straightening it out, muttering the while to himself. “What do you suppose he meant?” whispered Marie to Mrs. Bonnell. “I think he mistook Natalie for some one he knew, or thought he knew,” the Guardian replied. “He looks to me as though he were not quite right mentally.” “Oh, don’t say that, Mrs. Bonnell!” exclaimed Mabel in a hoarse whisper. “Hush! He’ll hear you,” cautioned Alice. “Besides I think he looks harmless, and we do need some one to help us, or we’ll have to sleep under a tree to-night.” “Never!” breathed Natalie. “I’ll go back home first.” “Can’t!” declared Mabel sententiously. “The last train is gone. It’s Green Lake for ours to-night anyhow.” “Oh, we’ll be all right as soon as we get up the tent,” declared Alice. “I never knew a tent could tangle so. I don’t see where the boys are. They ought to be here to help us.” “I believe we did mention something about being independent, and wanting to do things without their help, just to show them that we could,” murmured Natalie softly. “I wonder, oh, I wonder if that be sarcasm?” whispered Marie, and they all joined in the laugh that followed. Old Hanson looked up with a grin on his weather-wrinkled face. “That laughter sounds good,” he muttered. “Everybody feels happier when they come to Green Lake.” He seemed himself again, a simple countryman, though the others noticed that he glanced at Natalie furtively from time to time, as he straightened out the tangle of the tent ropes. “I’m sure we’ll all feel better when we get our shelter up, and have a camp fire built,” said Alice. “Oh, girls, but it’s going to be lovely here when we _do_ get straightened out!” declared Mabel, as she gazed up into the tangle of green in the trees overhead. “Wo-he-lo—Dogwood Camp Fire!” echoed Natalie, with a trill to her deep, rich contralto voice. “Is that your college yell?” asked Old Hanson. “Yes,” replied Mrs. Bonnell, not wishing him to get too familiar with her pretty charges. “Can we help you raise the tent now?” “In jest a minute, lady. As soon as I lay out the poles and spread the canvas over ’em.” “Oh, those poles!” exclaimed Alice. “Wasn’t it stupid of us not to remember that a tent had to have poles?” They watched the old man take the ridge pole and fit the holes in either end of it, over the pins on the tops of the two end poles. Then he spread the canvas over the ridge pole, bringing the central seam of it along the stick. Next he laid out the two side walls of the tent, with the guy ropes trailing off, the middle one on each side being placed near stakes that had been temporarily driven in the ground. Old Hanson then drove a stake in front and one to the rear of the tent, trailing the ropes from the end poles off toward them.