I wouldn't mind joining, myself," pursued Nat, coolly, and evidently enjoying the embarrassed looks of the boys. "It's a good idea."

There was an interval of silence. Then Bob spoke up. "I'm sorry, Nat," he said, quietly, "but it's just a little club that the five of us have formed among ourselves."

"Would one more do any harm?"

"No, only that—"

"Only that you don't want me, eh?"

Nat Wingate's eyes flashed, but his voice betrayed no feeling of anger. He seated himself on an empty box, and continued, with extraordinary coolness: "I shouldn't think that it would make any difference whether there were five or six members in the club."

The others understood Nat's nature well enough to know that he was really amusing himself at their expense. When thwarted in anything, he had a way of making it so unpleasant for those who were responsible that his wishes were often regarded in order to avoid trouble.

But the members of the Rambler Club did not wish to have among them a strife-making spirit, and they firmly but politely declined all overtures.

"Very well," said Nat, carelessly, as he arose; "just as you fellows say—'Oh ho.'"

He stretched, glanced slyly at Dave Brandon and moved toward the door. Then, in a mocking manner, just as he had seen a comedian on the stage do, he bowed and took his departure.

"I suppose Nat will find some way to show us what he thinks of our outrageous conduct," observed Tom Clifton, resignedly.

"Better have him making trouble outside the club than in it," said Bob Somers. "That seems a philosophical way to look at the question. Now, boys, let's talk over our plans."

The afternoon passed quickly, but before Bob was left to himself the Ramblers had decided upon a plan of action, and even selected a site for their first camp.

 CHAPTER II

THE BOAT

The idea of forming a club had long been uppermost in Bob Somers' mind. During the preceding year, he and his four chums had spent much of their time together, and the experience proved so agreeable 

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