That afternoon Ned and Fenn went over to Bart’s house and found him cleaning a small rifle.
“What’s up?” asked Fenn.
“Getting ready to go frog hunting,” said Bart. “Dad likes their hind legs fried in butter and I said I’d get him a mess.”
“Where you going?” asked Ned.
“Over to Ducker’s pond. There’s lots of ’em there.”
“Want any company?” inquired Fenn.
“Sure, come along. Get your rifles. There’s a boat over there. Tell Frank and we’ll make a day of it.”
“They ought to be out plentiful after the rain,” remarked Ned. “I’d like to get some for my father. He is fond of ’em.”
The boys found frog-hunting great sport. As they walked home in the twilight they passed a field in which a crowd of men were gathered about numerous wagons. Here and there tents were being raised.
“What’s this?” asked Bart.