"Come here and get the rifle, if you want to shoot," insisted Tom.
Harry looked about as queer as he felt, for a moment. Then, picking up a piece of branch that had blown from a tree, Hazelton shied it at the rabbit, which promptly scampered away.
"That's much the better way to go hunting," nodded Dick approvingly.
After that no more was said about hunting. Tom continued to carry the air rifle, though plainly the weapon was all for show.
By and by the Grammar School boys came across a pond, an eighth of a mile wide, with a brook emptying into it.
"It will be worth while bringing the tackle to this place to-morrow, and trying for fish," proposed Dick.
"And then, if you get one, you'll get a tender hearted streak and put it right back in the water," grumbled Harry.
"Perhaps," Dick laughed. "But say, fellows, the sun is setting, and we're a good way from camp. Hadn't we better turn back?"
"My empty stomach says 'yes,'" nodded Darrin. So the youngsters trudged back over their course. It was dark before they got near the log cabin.
"Ha, ha, ha!" came a croaking laugh from inside the cabin as Dick and his chums neared the door. "That's a good one."