Bart and Ned looked at each other. It was a peculiarity of Frank's to begin to say something, and then seem to recollect a matter that made him change his mind. But his chums were now used to his strangeness.

"Where'd you get that gun, Bart?" asked Fenn as he came in with the cake.

"Saw it advertised in a catalog, and sent to New York for it."

"How much?"

"Eighteen dollars. It was the first money I used of the thousand I got from the 'King of Paprica'"--for such was the a.s.sumed name of the princ.i.p.al man in the mystery the boys had cleared up.

"From New York, eh?" spoke Ned. "That reminds me I have an invitation to visit my uncle and aunt there."

"That's so. You asked us to come and see you," added Bart. "Wish we could go around Christmas time."

"If the holiday vacation was longer maybe we could," remarked Ned.

"Speaking of holidays, what's the matter with going hunting the end of next week?" asked Bart. "I've got my gun, and you fellows have your small rifles."

"I can borrow a shotgun," put in Fenn.

"This is Thursday," went on Bart. "School closes to-morrow for the Thanksgiving celebration. Let's see, Thanksgiving is a week from to-day.

That would give us three days counting Monday, when we can start off.

Why not go on a shooting trip and stay a couple of nights in the woods?

It's not very cold, and we could take plenty of blankets."

"The very thing!" cried Ned.

CHAPTER III

OFF IN THE WOODS

The town of Darewell, though situated near the center of a well-populated district, presented many advantages to the boys. There was the river to fish in, and it was a deep enough stream to accommodate steamers and barges up to a certain point. In addition there was, about five miles from the place, the beginning of a stretch of unbroken forest, seldom visited, and which in season contained much game. It was a favorite hunting spot, but had not been over-run with gunners.

The boys had, in past summers, camped along the river and in the woods, but they had not penetrated far into the forest, as there were few roads or trails through it.

"Have we got everything?" asked Fenn, as they stood in the front yard of Bart's house, early the next Monday morning.

"I guess so," Ned replied. "I looked after the blankets and such stuff, Bart saw to the tent and Frank to the portable stove and fixings. I suppose you've got the food all packed, Stumpy?"

"Everything."

"Didn't forget the salt, did you, the way you did when we went camping before and had to borrow of a tramp?"

"There's lots of salt."

"How about condensed milk?" asked Bart. "Remember how you dropped it in the river that day?"

"Do I? And how Ned howled because he had to drink black coffee."

"Maybe we'd better take the sled along," suggested Ned, as he noticed it was beginning to snow. "If it gets deep enough we can haul the things on it, instead of on the wagon."

The camp supplies, including a shelter tent, had been placed on a wagon, on which they were to be taken to where the boys decided to make their first camp. On the large vehicle was a smaller one, which the chums could load with all their stuff and haul through the woods, in case they found it advantageous to move to a section where there was better hunting.

"Wait a minute, I've got an idea!" exclaimed Bart.

"Make a note of it before you forget it!" called Fenn. "Good ideas are scarce."

"We can take runners along for the small wagon," Bart went on, not noticing his chum's sarcasm. "There are some adjustable ones I made a couple of years ago. Then we'll be prepared for anything."

The wagon was one the boys had built for themselves several seasons past. They used to cart their camp outfit on it when they did not transport the things by boat up or down the river. As Bart had said, there were adjustable runners, which could be fitted over the wheels, without taking them off, and thus on short notice the wagon could be transformed into a sled.

It was a crisp November day, with a suggestion of more cold to come, and the first few flakes had been followed by others while the boys waited until Bart, whose hand was almost well again, got the runners from the cellar.

"Looks as if we'd have quite a storm," remarked Jim Dodd, the driver of the express wagon, whom the boys had hired to take their stuff to a point about two miles inside the woods. The road, which was made by lumbermen, came to an end there. "Yes sir," Jim went on, "it's goin' t'

be a good storm. You boys better stay home."

"Not much!" cried Ned. "A storm is what we want."

"I'd rather eat my Thanksgivin' turkey in a warm kitchen than in an old tent," Jim added with a laugh.

"Oh, we'll be home for Thanksgiving," Fenn said, "and we'll have plenty of game to eat too."

"Wish ye luck," was Jim's rejoinder.

The adjustable runners were packed on the wagon, a last look given to see that everything was in place, and then, about nine o'clock the start was made.

"Keep your thumb wrapped up!" Alice called after her brother. "Don't take cold. Drink some hot ginger tea every night before you boys go to bed. Keep your coats well b.u.t.toned up around your throats, don't get your feet wet and--"

"Say, give us the books, sis," called Bart good-naturedly, "we can't remember all that. Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" called Alice, waving her hands to the chums.

"Good-bye!" the four boys echoed.

CHAPTER IV

THE FIRST TURKEY

"I must say you boys has got grit," remarked Jim, as the wagon lurched along, pitching like a ship in a storm because of the rough road.

"Why?" asked Bart.