The Southern boys separated in Boston and took their way toward their respective homes, Don and Bert stopping in Cincinnati long enough to purchase a couple of revolving-traps and a supply of glass-balls, and reaching Rochdale in due time without any mishap. Their shoulder-straps created all the surprise that Don could have desired, and the latter knew by the way his mother kissed him that she was entirely satisfied with the way he had conducted himself during his last year at school. They never grew weary of talking about the fine times they had enjoyed at the lodge, and Don gave everybody to understand that he was going back to Dalton some day on purpose to win that medal from the champion. He had a right to compete for it now, for he was a member of the club.
“But you will have to win it three times before you can bring it home with you,” said Bert.
“So much the better,” answered Don, “for then I can see that handsome little—ah! I mean the lodge, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” said Bert, dryly.
“By the way, has anybody heard anything of Lester Brigham and Jones and Williams?” exclaimed Don, anxious to change the subject.
Yes, everybody had heard of them. Mr. Brigham had been industriously circulating the articles and papers that Lester had sent him, and had celebrated his son’s return by giving a big supper and a party. The house was crowded, and Lester and Enoch were lionized to their hearts’ content.
Don and Bert spent a portion of their next vacation at the homes of Egan and Hopkins as they had promised, seeing no end of sport and some little excitement. What they did for amusement, and what Lester and his enemies did when they returned to Bridgeport in January, shall be narrated in the third and concluding volume of this series, which will be entitled: “The Young Wild-Fowlers.”
THE END.