Then suddenly he stiffened up, sticking a finger in his mouth.
"Ouch!" he grunted.
"What's the matter ?" asked Tom.
"I burned my finger," sighed Dave.
"Burned your finger--in a dead fire ?" But Dick, stirring the burned bits of wood with his shoe, suddenly lay bare some dull red coals.
"Look-a-here, fellows," hailed Dan in the same moment.

"Here's meat and bread, and part of a can of tomatoes on the table.

The bread ain't old enough to be mouldy." "Fellows," announced Dick Prescott, moving about, "there's some one living here--some one besides ourselves!".