away.”

“Huh!”

The chap who uttered this last exclamation half belligerently was what you might call a “horrible example” of the folly often displayed by boys when clapping a “nick-name” on some unsuspecting comrade.

Really “Wee Willie” was a full head taller than any one of his three chums, having possibly “shot up” overnight when about fourteen, as often happens—he was three years past that age now.

Perhaps at one time young Winkleman may have seemed puny and undersized, so that he really merited the queer sobriquet his mates had fastened upon him. But nowadays it seemed absolutely ridiculous, and few ever used it save when accompanied by a whimsical grin that must have become exceedingly annoying to the tall, angular, sandy-haired and freckled youth; more especially since he had of late been taking girls to country barn-dances.

The boy named “Perk,” really Aloysius Green Perkins, a rosy-faced, genial-looking, and altogether wholesome chap, whom everybody liked, once more spoke up. He was wheezing, being a bit stout of build, and frequently mopped his face with a suspiciously dingy-looking red bandanna; for the summer day had been rather warm, and each fellow carried quite a weighty pack on his back.

“I’m more than sorry I kept you waiting for me, because I wanted to see my dad when his train came in; but I had an important message for him, you know. So I guess it’s my fault if we have to make the last lap of our big hike after night sets in.”

“We should worry a whole lot about that!” disdainfully chortled the tall tramper. “Here’s Elmer got his fine pocket flashlight along; and besides, if we feel like it we can hold up a bit, and wait for the old moon to come along. She’s due shortly after dark sets in, you remember, fellows, being just past the full stage.”

“You’ve said it, Wee Willie,” remarked Elmer; “and we ought to be good for a few more miles.”

“Huh!” grunted the tall chap, just as before, as though the mention of that name grated on his nerves.

“Sure thing,” assented Perk, sturdily, though at the time it is possible his plump lower limbs were feeling more or less “wobbly” under him.

“Here’s the ford, and now to cross over,” remarked the fourth member of the party, Amos Codling by name, who was rather a newcomer in 

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