“I wish it would,” said Ned, “or else that we’d have skating. But what about going camping, Bart? Have you thought any more about it?”
“Yes, and I think I can arrange so we can go. I feel just like going off in the woods with our guns.”
“To hunt mud turtles with diamond bracelets,” put in Frank, with a laugh.
“Yes, mud turtles or anything else that comes our way,” went on Bart. “Yes, I think we’ll have a winter camp this season, and if we do—” He stopped suddenly, and appeared to be looking at some object just ahead in the woods, for the boys were now out of the swamp proper. Bart’s chums followed his gaze.
“There’s a man,” observed Fenn, in a low voice.
“Yes, and he seems to be looking for something,” remarked Bart, guardedly. “He’s poking away the leaves with a stick. Look at him.”
The man was, as yet, not aware of the presence of the boys. He was walking slowly along, with his head bent over, as if eagerly scanning the ground. Now and then he poked away the dead leaves with his stick. A moment later, as the four chums could see in the little light that lingered after an early sunset, the man stooped over, and picked up something.
“A turtle! He’s looking for mud turtles!” gasped Fenn, for it could be seen that the man had picked up one of the reptiles that seemed to be unusually numerous that day. Unconsciously Fenn had spoken louder than he intended, and the man heard him. He turned quickly, gave one startled look at the boys, appearing ill at ease at the unexpected meeting, and then, wheeling around, he made off through the woods, soon being lost to sight amid the trees.
“He took the turtle with him!” exclaimed Fenn. “He must be collecting them, too!”