Morning came at last.

Both boys were early astir, as was their custom; the coming of daylight served to lure them from their bunks; and indeed on many occasions they would have been getting breakfast before, only that there was need of husbanding their scanty stock of oil.

Maurice, knowing that his chum was eager to learn whether any spoils had fallen to his traps, volunteered to cook the limited morning meal, while Thad paddled ashore.

He was almost through, and the coffee was giving a most appetizing odor to the surrounding air, when the trapper came paddling out.

Maurice watched operations with more or less interest.

First of all Thad threw the traps aboard, trying to look disappointed while so doing.

“Oh! come off, you!” cried his chum, who could see that there was something assumed in the actions of the returned sportsman; “think I don’t just glimpse a tail like a round file sticking up over the gunnel?  Just as you said last night, it’s only a question of how many.”

“One!” said Thad, as he tossed a young ’possum on deck.

“But that tail is still there!” cried his comrade.

“Two!”

“My! you make my mouth water some.  That tail—­”

“Three, and that takes your old tail.  Now, what d’ye say to that for good hick.  Ain’t we going to live high for a while?  I don’t suppose you happened to see anything suspicious around?” and Thad, as he spoke, handed up the gun which he had made sure to carry with him “in case any more vicious dogs chanced to be roaming near by,” he had explained at the time he departed.

“Why, no, of course not; but what makes you ask such a silly question as that, Thad?”

“Silly it may be, but I give you my word I heard a man cough just as I climbed into the dinghy,” asserted Thad.

But Maurice only smiled.  Truth to tell he felt positive that there had been nothing to the scare of the preceding night.  Surely the ordinarily alert Dixie must have barked had any stranger been moving about on the deck while they sat in the cabin.

They were soon busy at the table.  On the preceding day they had been fortunate enough to buy a loaf of bread from a woman on a canal-boat that was tied to the bank, her husband being temporarily employed at some work on shore.

Butter they had none, but the sharp appetites for which the outdoor life was responsible, craved none, and things tasted good at all times; the only anxiety that arose was in connection of quantity.

“Wood’s mighty low, and as there’s a chance of bad weather today, after that red in the sky this morning, I move we lay in a stock while we have the chance.”

“Second the motion,” quickly added Thad.

“All right.  I’ll rig up our endless carry then, while you clear the table, after you get enough to eat,” and Maurice went out on the deck, where he could be heard working with the little tender.