"No fooling, you get faster every day," Brad praised his companion. "If you don't take Ross for a cleaning in our next swimming meet, I'll miss my guess."

"I only hope if I win I do it in a straightaway race, not on a technical point," the younger boy rejoined. "Ross still figures he lost on a fluke."

By the time the Cubs were dressed, lunch was ready. Squatting around the glowing coals, they filled their plates with steak, potatoes and generous helpings of carrots.

As his crowning achievement, Mr. Holloway produced a pan of delicately browned biscuits baked in a home-made reflector oven which he had fashioned.

"How does the meal taste, boys?" he asked.

"Swell!" approved Red, reaching for another biscuit. "As a cook, we'll give you the tin medal!"

When the last sc.r.a.p of food had disappeared, the Cubs doused sand on the fires, dispatched the dishes and then stretched out to enjoy a rest.

Chips, however, soon became restless.

"I think I'll amble down the beach and explore," he announced. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find the entrance to that old tunnel Mr. Hatfield told us about!"

"If you do, write me a letter about it," Brad joked, stretching lazily.

"I'm treating myself to a snooze. That swim made me drowsy."

"Don't go out of sight of camp, Chips," Mr. Hatfield advised the boy as he started away.

"Aw, Mr. Hatfield-"

"I'm asking the Cubs to stay pretty much in this section of the island,"

the Cub leader explained. "Later on, we'll do our exploring in a group."

"Oh, all right," Chips consented reluctantly.

"Want me to go along?" Fred asked.

Chips, acting as if he had not heard, ambled off. Fred, who preferred to remain in camp, let him go alone.

Fresh water was needed, so Dan and Mack went to the nearby spring for a bucket of water. The other Cubs finished making their balsam beds. This work completed, they joined Brad under the shade trees.

"Wonder what's become of Chips?" Mr. Hatfield presently remarked, scanning the beach area. "I don't see him anywhere."

"You know Chips," said Brad significantly.

"I do indeed. His intentions are good, but he's apt to wander off."

"Odd that he went by himself," Brad mused. "He really gave Fred the brush-off. Want me to see what's become of him, Mr. Hatfield?"

"I may look him up myself," the Cub leader replied, getting to his feet.

However, it was unnecessary for him to go in search. Scarcely five minutes later, Chips came running up the beach, obviously excited.

"Hey, fellows!" he shouted. "Come quick!"

The Cubs uncurled themselves from comfortable nooks, and hastened to see what was wrong.

"What's up, Chips?" Brad demanded.

"I want to show you something," the boy said impressively. "Gosh, it scared me half out of my wits!"

"What did you find?" Dan demanded.

"Just follow me."

At a dog-trot, Chips led the Cubs down the beach to a clump of willows.

There he pointed dramatically to an object lying in a slight depression.

"A skeleton!" Midge exclaimed, recoiling at the gruesome sight.

"Chips, how did you happen to find it here?" asked Mack with a shudder.

"Oh, I was just walking along the beach," the boy answered vaguely.

"There it was in the sand."

Brad bent down to examine the bones and the grinning skull.

"Don't touch the thing," Fred said, pulling back. "I'll call my father."

"Wait a minute," Brad stopped him. "Chips, you say you just happened along here and found this skeleton?"

"It was exactly where you see it now."

"Sure it was! After _you_ put it there!"

"Why, such an accusation," Chips protested, but his grin gave him away.

"Okay, Wise Guy!"

"I'm wise enough to know varnish when I see it! These bones all have been treated. So 'fess up, Chips. Where did you get the skeleton?"

"From the school laboratory," the boy admitted with a laugh. "Professor Johnson let me borrow it to play a joke on the Cubs. It would have worked too, if you hadn't been so smart."

"The joke doesn't seem funny to me," Brad replied severely. "It would have given us all a bad feeling to think anyone had died on the island.

We want this camping trip to be a pleasant experience."

"Guess I made a mistake," Chips muttered, gathering up the skeleton. "It seemed like a good idea when I first thought of it."

Disheartened by the failure of his joke, he carefully replaced the bones in a carrying box which he had hidden in the willows.

"Don't take it so hard," Brad said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know you went to a lot of bother to pull off that joke."

"The Cubs would have fallen for it too."

"Sure, they would have, Chips. But it would have stirred them up. You know as well as I do that if things go wrong while we're here, the Scouts may decide not to buy the island site for their camp."