Hundreds of people joined in the shrieking, and a stampede from the seats started. Scores were trampled. The music had stopped for an instant until the leader, true to tradition, called the men to order, and the musicians swung into a stirring march. Circus hands, aided by the performers who were on the platforms and in the rings, ran to the sides of the tracks and endeavored to keep the people in their seats.

The three chums were aghast for a minute, then Phil and Dick instinctively turned to Garry to see what he would do. Garry had taken one look and saw the beast at the far end of the tent, lashing his tail and surveying the crowd, as though making up its mind as to what course to pursue.

The boys saw that Garry was hastily slipping his lasso from his shoulder, and in a moment they had understood what he was going to attempt, and followed suit.

“Now fellows, let’s try it. We may save a lot of lives. I’ll try for his head, and you two try for a foot each. I think we can catch him all right. Let’s go!” and Garry led the way.

Calling to everyone to sit still as they ran, and swinging their lariats over their heads, they struggled to the ground. Several people seeing them make their way there, thought that it was perhaps a part of the circus, and began to shout to each other that it was a feature of the program. The sight of the three boys making their way fearlessly toward the beast did more than anything else to quiet the people. Many sat back in their seats, although others were escaping under the canvas wall of the tent.

It was to Phil, however, that the greatest honor was to come. As he ran, swinging one arm, his hand hit against a pocket in his coat, and he felt a hard lump within. In an instant he remembered that he bought pepper the day before to replenish the condiment can that he generally carried in his knapsack, but had not thought to take it out and transfer the contents from the package to the can. He reached into his pocket and brought out the can. Hastily opening the top, he kept on his way toward the lion, holding the package out in front of him. The chums approached within a few feet of the lion, who was showing signs of springing suddenly at them. The effect of the boys’ advance on him was to make him forget the crowds and center all his attention on those that were nearest him—the chums.

The boys stopped short and were swinging their lariats, when suddenly Phil darted ahead almost up to the lion, and, with a well directed aim, emptied the contents of the pepper package straight on the eyes of the lion.

The infuriated beast gave a roar of pain and sprang, then fell to earth and stuck a great paw into his eyes, as though to rub away the torturing stuff that was blinding him.

Garry, quick-witted, divined what Phil had done, and at the same moment that the lion struck the ground, ran forward and threw the noose of the lariat over the animal’s head.

The animal was nearly helpless, owing to its inability to see, and in another moment the boys had the rest of their lariats noosed about his feet.

By this time the trainer and a number of the circus helpers had arrived on the scene, and, dashing in, they tied the lariats securely about the animal’s feet.

The crowd seeing that the animal was securely fastened and helpless, first breathed a sigh of relief and then became suddenly quiet. Many still thought it was a part of the program, but a majority felt sure that it was a striking piece of bravery that they had just witnessed.

Then cheer on cheer rolled through the tent, as the audience applauded the brave trio of chums. All the foregoing had taken much less time than the minutes necessary to describe it. In a moment the owner came puffing on the scene, and when he saw who had accomplished the capture, he was speechless for the moment.

Then he said to the chums, as they stood watching the animal being loaded into its cage:

“This is twice today that you boys have done me a good turn, but this second time far outmatches the first. Will you please come back to the ticket wagon with me.” Then to the menagerie head, who had joined them: “I’d like you to come, too, please, Jones.”

The little group made its way to the ticket office, where the owner first asked for an account of how the beast had made its escape.

“The only man who can tell you that is the roustabout who cleans the animal’s cage. He was gashed by the lion evidently as its escape was being made, and that and very likely a heart stroke killed him quickly. I think perhaps he thought it was near time for the transfer to the arena cage to be made and had unlocked the cage door, and the lion pushed its way out, sir,” said Jones.

The manager was silent for a moment. Then he said:

“No one can know how sorry I am that the man lost his life, but I am thankful that the lion did no other damage, either by starting a great panic or by attacking some one of the audience. As for you boys, I propose to make you a substantial reward.”

“I assure you, sir,” began Garry, “we have no thought of any reward for doing what we did. It was luck on our part that enabled us to lasso him, and we get our satisfaction in knowing that we perhaps saved a great many lives.”

“I hope you will accept something as a recompense for your services. Had the lion done great damage, I would have had to pay out many thousands of dollars,” insisted the owner.

“Let us ask you one question first. Was the workman that was killed a family man?” asked Garry.

“I can tell you that in a minute.” Turning to the ticket seller, he told him to look the man up. A record of all the workers with their home addresses was kept in a card index and in a moment the ticket seller had ascertained that the dead man had a wife living in a small town in New York State.

“Of course we will take care of the widow, as we have every worker insured, and then the management always adds to the insurance,” said the head of the circus.

“Then I wish that you would just take whatever you had thought of offering us in the way of a reward and add to the amount. I think my chums agree with me that this is the best thing that could be done. Is that right?” and Garry turned to his friends. Both Dick and Phil were emphatic in their agreement.

“Well, if that is the way you boys feel about it, I will do so, but I will find some way to show you that I appreciate the great service that you have done me.”

The owner asked them several other questions and took their names and addresses, and again he offered to take the boys along with them on the tour. Of course they refused, explaining that they were of the Ranger Service of the State and were only on detached duty at the time.

They remained for supper at the cook tent, and watched the circus torn down and loaded in the teams preparatory to travelling to the next stop.

After a hearty goodbye from the manager and owner they took their leave, and hiking beyond the town spread their blankets for the night.

They woke with the rising of the sun, and building a fire soon had coffee, spider bread and bacon going, and made a hearty breakfast.

“According to my reckoning we are about ten miles from the camp, and the woods will begin in about a mile or two, so we had better get going. It is now six o’clock and with three hours of easy hiking we will make our destination,” said Garry. “Now I think we ought to hold a council of war as to how we shall conduct ourselves when we get to the camp. I think it best that we just go to the manager and tell him we are going to camp there for awhile, either right at the lumber camp, or a short distance in the woods. Of course we shall give no inkling of the nature of our visit, not even to the manager, at least until we have sized him up. To my mind, everyone will be under suspicion until he has proven that the suspicion is unfounded. We can go all over the camp and keep our eyes open, getting all the information we can. When we ask questions we should ask them simply as though it were from idle curiosity. I figure that in a short time we ought to be able to tell who is acting suspiciously and then bend all our efforts to watch them and frustrate any mischief that they may be up to. We shall, of course, get a lot of help from Howells when he arrives, but even then I think we ought to do everything possible ourselves to find out what is the trouble at the camp.”

They walked steadily but easily, and true to their reckoning arrived at the camp a little after nine o’clock. The boys looked about them curiously. There were only three buildings, built of logs. One, the smallest, was evidently the officers’ bunkhouse and offices; the other was apparently the cookhouse, for the boys could see a youth sitting on an upturned tub in front of the door peeling potatoes, and a thin wisp of smoke issued from the chimney. Since it was mid-summer and hot, there would be no need for a stove in any place but the kitchen. The third house was a long, low log affair, bigger by far than either of the others. This they decided was the bunk house, where the lumberjacks lived.

They made their way to the office and inquired for the manager. On hearing the word “manager,” a thin, sharpfaced man approached them, and giving them a hasty glance, said in a sharp tone:

“If you’re here to ask for permission to camp on this tract you’re out of luck. This is a lumber operation and not a free camp site for every fool from the city.”

“Just a minute, please. Hadn’t you better find out our business before you make up your mind as to what you will or won’t do?” asked Garry, as an angry red flush overspread his face. Garry was an extremely civil boy, and expected others to be the same, and when he received uncourteous attention was apt to resent it deeply.

“Well, what do you want?” asked the manager, still in an ungracious tone.

“My name is Boone, and the owner of these cuttings happens to be my father. Didn’t you get a letter from him telling of our expected arrival?”

A great change came over the manner of the manager. A smirking smile took the place of the frown and he advanced with outstretched hand.

“I hope you will pardon me. I have been bothered to death for the past few days by summer campers asking to pitch tents and build cabins and what not on the cutting, and I thought from your appearance that you boys were more of the same tribe,” he said with an attempt to smooth out the awkward situation and make up by a show of cordiality the blunder he realized he had made.

Privately, Garry thought him very ill-mannered and felt he should have made more inquiries before showing his temper. Still he said nothing and accepted the hand of the manager, who said his name was Barrows.

Garry then introduced his chums and explained that they intended to stay awhile and camp somewhere in the vicinity and watch the lumbering as well as getting some fishing.

“I understand that there are two lakes in the neighborhood,” remarked Garry, “and so we ought to get some good fishing.” At the mention of the word lakes, Barrows looked sharply at the boys, then said:

“Oh, yes, you will get plenty of fishing, but you will find that the small lake to the west of here is better than the big one that lies to the north of us. The state stocked the little lake sometime ago by special request of your father, and I hear there are some very good bass and pickerel to be found there. The reports about the larger lake are not so encouraging. Also there are two or three small streams,—brooks perhaps it would be better to call them,—where you will find some excellent trout. Then at the small lake there is a good stretch of sandy beach where you can swim whenever you want to. Altogether you will find the small lake is the most likely place for a summer playground.”

For a moment Garry wondered at the insistence of the manager in always bringing the “small” lake into the conversation, but dismissed the matter with the thought that the manager was simply trying to make amends for his ungraciousness of the previous moment by showing them where they could best enjoy themselves. Later he was to find that he was mistaken.

The manager asked them what they intended to do for living quarters. “I am sorry that I can’t offer you quarters in the bunkhouse here, but they are just built to accommodate the officers of the camp; that is myself, the sealer, the timekeeper and the bookkeeper. Of course you would not want to live in the bunkhouse with the men, for they are a rough lot. All I can suggest is that we makeshift for you some way and I will send to town and dig up a tent for you.”

“If you will just loan us an axe apiece, and tell us which spot we can cut a little timber from, we can throw ourselves up a cabin in a short time, so don’t bother about a tent. If necessary we can sleep in the open till we get our shack fixed up,” answered Garry.

“Why, I can do better than that. I can let you have a couple or three men to help you and do the work if you can direct them as to the kind of cabin you want.”

“I don’t want to take any of the men away from their work,” Garry told him, “but if we could have two or three for a few minutes to help us throw up the cabin after we cut the stuff it would help greatly.”

“I will go and mark out some of the trees that you can cut. There is a small growth here that isn’t exceptionally good lumber, it's rather scrubby, but will do very well for a cabin. I’ll have to go myself, for I left the cruiser go a few days to do some business he had waiting him, and I have been scaling myself. In fact I do that often. Whenever he is cruising to mark trees for cutting I do the measuring and that saves a lot of time, also it saves the pay of an extra man. You ought to have a good bit done by noontime and then after dinner I will detail a couple of men to help you,” and the manager led the way to the cookhouse, where there were several extra axes.

When they arrived at the cookhouse, they looked about with quite a bit of curiosity. Two great ranges stood at one end of the kitchen, and on one of the ranges were two enormous kettles. The boys could smell appetizing pea soup and judged that one of the kettles contained this.

The cook was an enormous man with a pair of fierce black moustaches, and the one man on the whole range who was regarded as being just a little bit better than the boss or even the owner of the timber tract. Lumberjacks always took care never to pick a quarrel with him, and this went the same for the manager and the camp officers.

This is the same in every logging camp, for a cook can pay up any grievances by cooking the food in an inferior fashion. Camp owners and managers always pay the greatest attention to the sort of man they pick for this position, for while in a lumber camp, there is never a widely varied menu, it must be well cooked and plentiful.

Nothing will drive the men away from a camp quicker than poor cooking.

The manager introduced the boys to the cook, who shook hands with them, offering a hairy hand which the chums privately thought resembled a ham. For all his fierce looks he proved to be a genial chap, and the three boys wondered whether he was one of the ring of trouble makers or not. They reserved any decision in their own minds to await future developments, but they had decided that everyone was under suspicion until he proved that he was clear of any blame in the mysterious occurrences that retarded progress at the lumber camp.

In every camp there is a cookee, as the helper to the cook is universally called. His duty is to peel potatoes, wash dishes, wait on the table—rather set the tables than wait, for everything is piled on at the beginning of the meal, and the only helping that is done is when a dish has to be re-filled.

The cookee was a surly looking chap of about twenty-one years of age. He was slight of build and had violent red hair. He just mumbled a word or two when he was introduced, and went on with his work, which was slicing bread for the dinner hour that was near at hand. Garry and his friends mentally put him down as one that might bear watching as soon as they had located themselves.

While the manager was asking the cook about borrowing a couple of the axes that were stacked in the corner, a black-browed chap came to the door and asked for a pail of water to take out to where several of the men were trimming trees. The cookee brought the water and stepped outside with the man. Garry and Phil were talking with the manager and the cook, but Phil happened to be standing near the door.

He heard the sound of talking in the French language and strained his ears to catch what was being said. Phil was not eavesdropping because of a natural desire to do so; it was merely that he was on the watch every moment for a possible clue that would lead them to the solution that they were in quest of,—the riddle of the mishaps at the lumber camp.

What Phil heard was this:

“Baptiste will be at the usual place at midnight tonight.”

Phil determined then and there that he would be at the rendezvous, wherever it was, and hear what transpired. He could hardly wait to get the others with him so that he could impart to them the information that he had just overheard.

He hoped that something else would be said, but at this moment the cook called for his helper, who came hustling back into the shanty, and went about preparing for the serving of the dinner.

Phil went back to join his chums just in time to hear the manager say:

“Unless you boys want the fun of throwing up a log house, I would suggest a much easier and quicker way. You can cut enough poles for the supports of the house, and then I’ll have some sawed boards brought to the spot. Also there is some tarred paper here that was brought here when the camp started just for such an emergency. That would mean that you could be all located before nightfall. As for heat, I have a Sibley stove, one of those small ones such as they use in army camps for tents, that will do very well. It isn’t likely that you will want it often, for we are in the hottest part of the summer, and only on a cold, wet night will you require heat. You won’t be here such a long time, I presume, and we are in for a spell of good weather according to the cook here, who is the camp weather prophet.”

Garry thought for a moment, and wondered what made the manager presume they would be there only a short time. He was anxious to get going about the camp as soon as possible and see what there was to pick up in the way of information, so he decided that the board house would do as well as one built entirely of logs.

“That is a fine suggestion and we will accept. Building a hut is nothing new to us, and we are anxious to begin fishing and wandering about, so if you will show us where we can cut enough good heavy saplings for supports, we will start right at it. We can have them cut and in place before dinner and then the men can bring us the boards after dinner and we will be all shipshape by nightfall,” said Garry.

“I think that is the best thing to do,” the manager answered. “It is about an hour to dinner time, and you will have ample time to do all that can be done this forenoon.”

So saying, Barrows led the way to a spot near the camp, where there was a clump of saplings that were not big enough to be used for sawed lumber.

“You might as well pitch your shanty here as anywhere, and it will save you from dragging your saplings to any great distance. I’ll gash each of the saplings that you will need. You will only want ten as I figure it.”

“No, we will want twelve so that we may have a window,” interposed Garry.

“That’s a fact,” answered the manager, looking sharply at Garry. “I see that you know rather a bit about shanty building. Do you know much about logging operations? I suppose you do, however, since you are of a family that has always made logging a business.”

Garry felt that the manager was asking this question for a purpose, but he promptly answered:

“No, we know very little about logging, surprising as that may seem, since as you say it ought to run in the blood. About the only thing we understand about timbering operations is the log drive in the spring. We were up once to watch the fight for the river, and had a mighty exciting time, but the entire business is something new to all of us.”

Garry finished speaking and then looked sharply but guardedly at Barrows. He thought he noticed a relieved expression on the face of the manager.

The three boys set about felling the saplings, swinging their axes with a sure arm and hand. Barrows lingered to watch them at work, although Phil was on tenterhooks to have him get away in order that he might impart to his chums the information that he had gained from the sentence he had overheard at the cook shanty.

The poles being cut, four of them were erected in an upright manner to form the main support of the house. At the tops of these, four more were placed horizontally to support the roof. Then in the center of the front, two were erected to form the sides of the door, while at a side two others, in vertical position, allowed the making of a window.

Still the manager made no show of leaving until fortunately for Phil, who would have almost exploded had he been forced to keep silent any longer, he was called by the red headed cookee.

“Now quick fellows, while I have a chance to tell you. I have found one of the traitors in the camp; it is the cookee. He is going to meet some one tonight to hatch something out, and you chaps have one guess as to who it is.”

“Barrows?” hazarded Dick.

“Wrong. Baptiste LeBlanc!”