"Fred surrenders, and the war is over!" cried Jack.
"Hoist the milk-blue flag and call it off!" burst out Andy gleefully. "Throw the snowballs into the ice-cream freezer and season to taste!"
After that the four young hunters packed up their belongings and saw to it that the campfire was completely extinguished. Then they continued on their tramp in the vicinity of the Rick Rack River.
"I'm getting tired of hanging around this watercourse," said Fred finally. "I believe the reports of our guns have driven all the remaining game away. Why can't we strike off into the woods yonder and come in on the other side of Haven Point?"
They noted the position of the sun with care, and then struck off at right angles to the river. Soon they found themselves going up hill and presently struck a lumberman's trail leading down in the direction of the town. Here, however, after two hours of hunting, they failed to find any game whatever.
"We didn't improve things by coming over here," grumbled Andy.
"Now I guess we had better be thinking of getting back to the school," said Jack, as he consulted his watch. They had been told that they must return in time for the evening meal.
"All right, I'm ready to go," came from Fred. "Gosh! I wish I had a horse to ride, or something." The many miles of tramping had wearied him greatly.
"My left foot is beginning to hurt me a little," put in Randy. "I slipped on the rocks this morning when we were carrying that old Uncle Barney. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now it's growing quite lame."
"You can walk on it, can't you?" questioned Jack anxiously.