We must now take the reader back to the previous morning, and see what befell Randy and Nugget after their companions had started for West Hill. Nugget amused himself until dinner time by fishing at the mouth of the run, and caught a number of sunfish and chubs.

When he returned Randy had just finished entering the events of the cruise in the log book. Then they started in to get dinner, and Randy proved himself no novice in culinary affairs by frying a delicious panful of fish and boiling some excellent coffee.

The distasteful work of washing the dishes was duly performed, and then they began to consider what they should do next. Randy wanted to go away up the stream for trout, but Nugget was unwilling to trust himself in the woods after his experience of the previous evening, and was equally determined not to remain alone in camp.

This obstinate conduct roused Randy's temper, and indications pointed a lively quarrel.

"I never saw such a coward," he exclaimed angrily. "You're a nice fellow to go on a canoe trip, I must say."

"I'm not a coward," returned Nugget hotly. "I'm not afraid of you, anyhow, and if you call me any more names I'll show you something."

Randy laughed scornfully, and was about to make a bitter reply when a trampling noise was heard in the woods behind the tent, followed by a violent agitation of the bushes. A few seconds later a big brindle cow appeared on the scene, followed by a small boy shouting "Hi! hi!" at the top of his voice.

The cow was evidently in no mood to listen to argument; she pranced at the tent with lowered horns, knocked it flat, and trampled with dirty hoofs over the clean canvas.

Then she rushed at Nugget with a vicious bellow, and after pursuing him a few yards in the direction of the creek, she suddenly changed her mind, and charged on Randy and the small boy, who were standing by the edge of the pool. The latter escaped by dodging nimbly to one side, but Randy was not agile enough, and as the cow brushed by him her revolving tail lashed him smartly over the face, and tumbled him into the pool.

He emerged dripping wet, and mad as a hornet, just in time to see the cow retreating in the direction she had come, with the small boy in pursuit.

"Look here," cried Randy, "what do you mean by letting a vicious animal like that run loose? Look at that tent, and look at the condition I'm in. For half a cent I'd get my gun and shoot the brute."

The boy stopped at the edge of the bushes and looked back. He was quite a little fellow, with sunburned legs and face.

"That cow has more right here than you-uns," he said sullenly. "My uncle Dan owns this land. He knows you-uns are here, and he's comin' down pretty soon, too. He says you-uns will be sorry you shot that calf afore he gits done with you."

Randy stared at the lad in amazement, and then a sudden light broke on his mind.

"That explains the bear story," he muttered, and then added to Nugget, who had just ventured to come forward: "You fellows have got us in a pretty mess. It was a calf that Clay shot last night. I'm glad it's not my fault this time."

"A calf!" exclaimed Nugget. "I don't see how it can be possible. It had shiny eyes."

"The calf was shot, anyhow," said the boy. "It got astray yesterday afternoon, and our hired man found it this morning. It ain't hurt very bad, an Uncle Dan thinks it'll get well. That's the reason the cow is so cross, 'cause she can't have the calf with her. She broke the fence down this morning an' got into the woods. I'll have a hard time gittin' her home again."

"You say your uncle is cross about the calf?" asked Randy.

"He's hoppin' mad," said the boy. "He's going to give you all a lickin', an' then hev you locked up for trespassin'."

"But suppose we explain to him that it was all a mistake, and offer to pay the damages," continued Randy, "wouldn't that satisfy him?"

The boy shook his head.

"Uncle Dan ain't that kind. When he gets mad nobody kin stop him, I reckon he'll lick you chaps pretty hard."

"I reckon he won't," said Randy, decisively. "Not if we know ourselves. Pitch in and help, Nugget; we must light out of this as quick as possible."

Nugget was only too willing to lend his aid, and the tent was speedily rolled up, and deposited in the cockpit of the Pioneer, where it belonged.

"Uncle Dan may be here any minute," said the boy. "You-uns had better wait."

"Say, you'd like to see us licked, wouldn't you?" inquired Randy. "I'm sorry we can't oblige you by staying. Here is a dollar for your uncle to square up the damage to the calf. Just say to him that it was a mistake, and that he needn't come after us, because we are going straight through to Harrisburg."

The lad pocketed the money, and after looking on for a little while in silence he went away to hunt the refractory cow.

The boys worked with feverish energy—not forgetting to keep a sharp eye on the woods—and in scarcely more time than it takes to tell everything was in the canoes.

"It goes hard to leave here," said Randy, "but it can't be helped. It would be a nice ending to the canoe trip if we got locked up for trespassing. I hope the dollar will satisfy that man."

"What are we going to do about Ned and Clay?" asked Nugget.

"I'll attend to that," replied Randy, as he stepped into the Water Sprite and tied its stern to the bow of the Pioneer.

The other two canoes were arranged in the same way, and then the boys paddled quickly out of the stream.

They first crossed to the other side of the creek, where Randy wrote a short explanatory note for Ned and Clay, instructing them to follow the creek down about three or four miles.

"It won't be safe for us to stop short of that distance," he remarked as he pinned the big white document to a tree at the base of the hill.

"The boys can't miss this when they come down to the water. They ought to be here in about two hours."

Having arranged their means of communication, Randy climbed back into the canoe, and led the way down stream. Progress was necessarily tedious, since the current was sluggish, and each had an additional canoe in tow. They felt more at ease when they had passed round the first bend, and after paddling for two or three miles—as nearly as could be judged—they began to search for a good camping place.

They did not find one that suited their requirements for some time, but finally, while drifting along the base of a precipitous cliff, they came to a good sized cleft or hollow. It was half a dozen yards wide. It sloped gradually upward, narrowing as it went, until it terminated in a ravine which seemed to continue on to the top of the hill.

The beach was hard and stony ground, with a few stunted bushes, but there was ample room for a tent, and moreover on each side was a sheer wall of rock towering forty feet in the air.

The boys landed, and with much difficulty dragged the canoes out of the water.

"This place just suits us," said Randy. "There is no danger of the farmer finding us here, if we are on his side of the creek. And we need not be afraid to keep a fire going, because these rocks will shut out the light."

It was now half past four o'clock, and when the tent had been pitched—a difficult piece of work for two persons—and the canoes unloaded, the boys began to prepare a good supper in readiness for Ned and Clay.

Six o'clock came, and then seven, but the anxiously expected ones did not appear on the other side of the creek.

Randy and Nugget were too hungry to wait any longer, so they ate their supper by twilight. When it grew a little darker they built a roaring fire at the edge of the water. There was an abundance of driftwood farther up the slope, which had been left there at various times by the high water.

When nine o'clock came the boys were seriously alarmed, and all sorts of dreadful possibilities occurred to them. They found it impossible to sleep, and all through the long hours of that night they sat about the fire, constantly piling on wood, and keeping a huge blaze going to guide the missing ones to the camp.

The first glimmer of dawn found them worn out by sleeplessness and despair. It was impossible to maintain their vigil any longer, so they stuck the pennant in the sand close to the edge of the water, and crawling into the tent, went to sleep side by side.

A cannon shot could hardly have wakened them then. The sun rose higher and higher until its direct rays beat fiercely down upon the tent from a cloudless sky above, but still they slumbered on.

The heat finally became intolerable, and Randy turned drowsily over and opened his eyes. As he sat up with an effort, struggling to clear his mind, he heard a tremendous splash, and then a loud, shrill cry.

He was thoroughly awake now, and jerking Nugget to an upright position, he turned and ran out of the tent. He gained the shore and looked up stream.

A thick mass of bushes was drifting leisurely along the base of the cliff a dozen feet above, and something behind it—as yet invisible—was making a great commotion in the water.

Then a head appeared, and a pair of struggling arms, and to his joy and amazement Randy recognized Clay. The lad's strength barely sufficed to reach the shore, and Randy helped him out on land just as Nugget came running from the tent.

Clay staggered up the slope and dropped down in the bushes.

"I fell off the cliff," he stammered with chattering teeth. "Ned is up there; call to him."

Randy and Nugget shouted with all their might, and a reply was heard instantly. Then Ned appeared far up on the cliff and waved his hand. He vanished at once, and a moment later came impetuously down the ravine, leaping rocks and bushes in his haste.

His face was paler than the boys had ever seen it, and tears stood in his eyes. He hurriedly clasped hands with Randy and Nugget, and approached Clay.

"Are you hurt, old fellow?" he asked huskily. "That was a wonderful escape. I thought it was all up with you."

Clay smiled faintly.

"I'll be all right in a little while. I'm suffering from the shock, that's all. I don't think there is a bruise on me."

A fire was quickly made, while Ned explained to his companions the catastrophe that had happened on the cliff. Then Clay was stripped and rubbed down with a coarse towel, and after his dry clothes were on he declared he felt as well as ever.

A good dinner was prepared, and when all were seated around the flat rock that served for a table, Ned produced the packet of letters and gave a minute account of the wanderings and adventures which it had cost to obtain them. The story of Randy's cake provoked much laughter, and Randy assured Ned that he had done the proper thing under the circumstances.

Then the other side of the story was told, and listened to with even greater interest. Clay was chaffed unmercifully about the calf, and Nugget also came in for a goodly share of ridicule.

The failure of the boys to find Randy's letter was a mystery at first, but Ned finally suggested that it had been blown into the water, which was no doubt the case.