CAMP HAMPERFORD. They reached the camping ground a little before noon, having taken the two miles and a half very leisurely, with frequent halts; for the weather was warm, the beauty of the old forest beguiling, and the little hand wagon heavy to draw. Soon after their arrival, as Phil was hanging his ulster on a peg driven into one of the tent poles, he exclaimed : “Bless me, this old coat was never so heavy be- fore!” and just then something or other in one of the pockets settled with a bounce. “I do believe some one has been stuffing some everlastingly heavy thing in one of these pockets a-purpose!” he ex- claimed, and began anexamination, After extracting sundry pins which confined a great round object in the breast pocket, he produced the bottle marked carefully in Davy’s queer little hand, “Jamaica Ginger.” “Oh ho!” roared Phil; “if Davy hasn’t suc- ceeded in tucking some ginger off on to me after all;” then he added, his voice full of fondness, “the dear little idiot!” After his laugh, in the bustle and hurry which followed, he placed the bottle back in the same pocket, and went on with the work of “‘fix- ing up.” We cannot stop to tell what merry sports were enjoyed during the three days of this outing; but the weather was charming throughout, the moon was at her highest and fullest, the game abundant, and the good nature and overflowing spirits of the boys unchecked by any untoward event. There was a hunt every morning, and a feast every afternoon. The late evenings were spent in strolling about near camp and story-telling, aid the vigorous exercise and keen enjoyment had added heightened color to the bronzed cheeks of the happy campers. At length the last night, the fourth, of their wild woods’ sport had arrived. Next day they must “pull up stakes” and start for home; but they had made the most of this last day. Rising at dawn and taking the guns and dogs, sufficient game and wild fowl had been secured to provide a last grand feast, and also leave quite a little “show” to take home. The moon was riding high in the heavens, and Watch was lazily crunching a bone outside the open tent, when Phil went out for one last look about. He was somewhat troubled because Samp was missing. In vain he whistled and called. The rogue had stolen off; but probably not far— might return any moment. At all events, Phil was too sleepy to wait 149 up for him. They were not unguarded either; fot woe betide the luckless intruder who dared Watch’s mighty grip! Silence reigned throughout the forest save for the whispering of the leaves overhead, the twittering of some uneasy birds, the occasional hoot of an owl, or the flapping wings of a nighthawk. It was past midnight, although it seemed as if he had been sleeping but a few moments, when Phil be- came conscious of a cold nose rubbing against his cheek, and of a whining, coaxing, urgent appeal — Samp. Samp had returned. He half-opened his eyes, spoke impatiently : “Down, Samp! quiet, old fellow! behave your- self!” But Samp would neither “down,” “quiet,” nor “be- have.” Finding Phil was waking, he pulled eagerly at the hem of his pants, whining and crying in an unaccountable manner. In vain Phil scolded and soothed by turns. The dog persisted. At length Phil sat upright, rubbed his eyes, and said softly and kindly: “Well, now, old fellow, what’s up? What ails you?” . During all this time the other boys had not stirred, and Tom Perkins drowned all sounds anyway, by a most tremendous snoring. But Samp, now that he felt Phil was broad awake, grew more excited than ever, taking long leaps and bounds outside the tent, then crawling back along the ground, almost voicing his entreaties to Phil to “come!” “Well, Samp,” said the boy at last, “ you surely never would behave in this way for nothing, and I don’t believe you’re the boy to coax me into any dan- ger. Idon’t much believe you are, Sampson Hamlin. Oh, I’m coming,” he added, patting him; “ just wait one moment, do!” He took his gun, hung a pistol in his belt, then feel- ing a decided chilliness in the air, muttered: “Guess I'll don my ulster. Whew!” he added, drawing it on, “this heavy coat feels good! I declare it does!” Then he paused and reflected. Should he wake the others ? “What for?” was his next thought. ‘Of course I sha’n’t go far, and I’m well protected, armed as I am, and with Samp along; besides there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Fear was an element almost wanting in the charac. ter of a border boy, and neither Phil nor his compan- ions formed exceptions to the general rule.