call: "Oh ho, oh ho." If he sought to vex the good-natured Dave Brandon, his effort was in vain.

"Hello, Nat Wingate," greeted the latter, cheerily; "I suppose you wish you were back in school?"

Nat slowly climbed down from his elevated perch, and sauntered forward. "Where have you been?" he asked, rather bluntly. Then, as his eye fell upon a book in Brandon's pocket, he added: "Over by the creek, I'll wager, reading poetry."

"Quite correct," laughed Dave.

"And I'd like to know what good it does you," observed the other. "Laziness is a frightful thing to encourage. Where are you going now?"

"To a meeting."

Nat showed signs of becoming interested, and did not hesitate to declare that he would like to know all about it.

"A club is going to be organized," said Sam Randall, with some hesitation.

Nat Wingate stuffed his hands in his pockets, leaned against an electric light pole and put on a quizzical expression.

"What's the club going to do when it's formed?" he asked.

"Oh, have a good time, hunting, fishing—"

"Well," said Nat slowly, "I wouldn't mind joining myself." His sarcastic expression gave place to an eager look.

Dave and Sam exchanged swift glances. "Bob Somers is managing the whole affair," said the latter; "it was his idea."

A rather curious twinkle shone in Nat Wingate's brown eyes, and for a moment he hesitated. Then he said with apparent frankness: "Well, I guess the club could stand the two of us."

"We don't know yet just what is going to be done," replied Sam, evasively, for, to tell the truth, he was not anxious that Nat Wingate should join.

At this juncture, the two, realizing that they had barely time to reach the meeting place, bade Nat good-bye and started off.

The latter slowly made his way back to the boulder, and resumed his former position.

"They don't want me, eh?" he said, half aloud. "Well, I think I'll have some fun with them yet. It's a soft crowd, and they need to be stirred 

 Prev. P 7/167 next