"He must already have more meat than he can handle all day to-morrow---if it doesn't spoil." So Dick posted himself where he could easily watch the approach of any outsider toward the boxes that served as cupboards for the canned supplies.
The time slipped away, until it was nearly midnight, as Prescott knew from stepping into the tent and lighting a match briefly for a swift glimpse at his watch.
As Dick came out of the tent he fancied he heard a distant step, crackling on a broken twig.
"If there's anyone coming I'd better slip into the shadow of the canvas," Prescott told himself, acting accordingly.
Presently the stealthy steps sounded nearer to the camp.
"Someone is coming, as sure as fate," Dick said to himself.

"Shall I rouse one or two of the other fellows?
But they might alarm the prowler.

I'll handle him myself.".