It was that night, then, that we were sitting round the camp-fire on stones that we had brought up from the beach.  We had seen nothing more of the bear, and if we had been asked we should have said that the nearest human being was twenty-five miles away.

Suddenly a voice came out of the woods just behind us, a man’s voice.

“Please don’t be alarmed,” said the voice.  “But may I have a little of your fire?  Mine has gone out again.”

“G-g-g-good gracious!” said Aggie.  “T-Tish, get your revolver!”

This was for effect.  Tish had no revolver.

All of us had turned and were staring into the woods behind, but we could see no one.  After Aggie’s speech about the revolver it was some time before the voice spoke again.

“Never mind, Aggie,” Tish observed, very loud.  “The revolver is here and loaded—­as nice a little thirty-six as any one needs here in the woods.”

She said afterward that she knew all the time there was no thirty-six caliber revolver, but in the excitement she got it mixed with her bust measure.  Having replied to Aggie, Tish then turned in the direction of the voice.

“Don’t skulk back there,” she called.  “Come out, where we can see you.  If you look reliable, we’ll give you some fire, of course.”

There was another pause, as if the stranger were hesitating.  Then:—­

“I think I’d better not,” he said with reluctance in his voice.  “Can’t you toss a brand this way?”

By that time we had grown accustomed to the darkness, and I thought I could see in the shadow of a tree a lightish figure.  Aggie saw it at the same instant and clutched my arm.

“Lizzie!” she gasped.

It was at that moment that Tish tossed the brand.  It fell far short, but her movement caught the stranger unawares.  He ducked behind the tree, but the flare of light had caught him.  With the exception of what looked like a pair of bathing-trunks he was as bare as my hand!

There was a sort of astonished silence.  Then the voice called out:—­“Why in the world didn’t you warn me?” it said, aggrieved.  “I didn’t know you were going to throw the blamed thing.”

We had all turned our backs at once and Tish’s face was awful.

“Take it and go,” she said, without turning.  “Take it and go.”

From the crackling of leaves and twigs we judged that he had come out and got the brand, and when he spoke again it was from farther back in the woods.

“You know,” he said, “I don’t like this any more than you do.  I’ve got forty-two mosquito bites on my left arm.”

He waited, as if for a reply; but getting none he evidently retreated.  The sound of rustling leaves and crackling twigs grew fainter, fainter still, died away altogether.  We turned then with one accord and gazed through the dark arches of the forest.  A glowing star was retreating there—­a smouldering fire, that seemed to move slowly and with an appearance of dejection.