"Yes; but Fits was alone, then, and the blizzard kept him from getting away to get help of his own choice kind. Now he can travel as much as he likes. We'll hear from him again, all right," Dave Darrin wound up.
"If we do, then we'll find a way to take care of him once more," hinted Prescott.
"Or we might vote that we've had a jolly good lot of camping, and go home," suggested Harry.
"What? Let that rascal chase us out of the woods?" flared Dick. "All who want to go home may start. I'll stay here as long as I want to, even if I have to camp alone."
"You know pretty well, Dick, that you won't have to stay in camp alone," offered Dave.
"Of course not," agreed Tom Reade. "We'll all stick. We'll hope that Fitsey won't come back. If he does, then we'll try to make him sorry that he returned."
From the doorway of the log cabin Hen Dutcher was seen to be peering forth cautiously.
"Say, you fellows," hailed Hen complainingly, "I thought you were never coming back. I thought you had all got scared and ran away."
"Then why didn't you run away with us?" Dave called out.
"That isn't my style," proclaimed Dutcher, throwing out his chest. "I'm no baby."