"I'm only sorry for one thing, boys," remarked Farmer Trotter's wife, who had apparently hailed the decision of the seven bold scouts to guard her fowl-roost with undeniable joy.
"What might that be, ma'm?" asked Lil Artha, in a quivering voice; for the poor fellow began to have a terrible fear that she was about to warn them her stock of provisions was too valuable to be wasted on a batch of tramps.
"Of course, we'll be glad to have you to supper, and breakfast, too, for that matter," she told them; "but I'm afraid I couldn't find beds enough to go 'round, even if you all doubled up."
At that the elongated scout gave a loud laugh; the clouds passed from his face like magic. If he could only be positive of his regular rations it mattered nothing to Lil Artha where he laid his head.
"Oh! don't let that little thing bother you, Mrs. Trotter," he hastened to say, thereby making himself spokesman for the crowd; "why, we're used to camping out, you see, and in our time we've slept in the queerest beds you ever heard tell of. We can bunk in any old place, I give you my word."
"What's the matter with sleeping in the barn?" asked Toby, suddenly.
"That's so," added Landy, eagerly; "it's nearly full of nice sweet hay, cut only a month or so back. Me to hit the hay every time."
In fact, the idea seemed to appeal to all of them. They had planned to make their camp just as circumstances permitted, and this thing of spending the first night in a hay barn was romantic enough to suit the fancy of any scout who loved adventure and the Big Outdoors.
So it was quickly settled.
The boys were shown the barn by the eager Johnny, who could hardly finish his numerous chores on account of the excitement surrounding him. It was an event of prime importance, according to his mind, when seven real scouts came and took the farmhouse of the Trotters by storm.