"But my uncle doesn't want me," whined Hen.
"Then why should you think we can endure you, Hen, if your uncle can't?" demanded Tom Reade, with a short laugh.
"Don't keep the constable waiting, Hen," Dick pressed him. "Get your motion started."
"Oh, well, if you fellows want to be mean, I suppose I'll have to go," faltered Hen. "But I was enjoying myself here."
"You'll enjoy yourself better still with your aunt," Dick urged with a smile. "Besides, you'll have your aunt's good cooking and a real bed to sleep in. If the country highways aren't broken out yet, they will be in a day or two, and then you can get back to Gridley."
"All right, if you fellows bounce me out of camp," sighed Hen ruefully, as he began to pull on his overcoat. "But I think you're about the meanest——"
"Save the rest of it, Anvil, if you please, until we're all at home in Gridley," Dave begged him.
"Say, you stop calling me Anvil," snarled Dutcher. "I don't like that name."
"Why not?" pursued Dave. "It fits you."
"Tell that boy to hurry up, if he's going with us," bawled Mr. Dock from a distance.