“Shall we go with the old gazabo, Phil?” asked Tom.
“If he guarantees not to get us lost in the woods, so we’ll have to stay out all night,” replied the quarter-back.
“Oh, I’ll get you home safe,” declared Sid. “We’ll have a nice walk. I’ll be ready in a jiffy,” and he proceeded to load his camera with films. It was a large one, and he often used it to make pictures which had a bearing on his class work in biology and evolution. The three chums were soon strolling along the banks of the river, Sid on the lookout for late-staying birds or some animal or reptile which he might add to his photographic collection.
“You must be fond of this sort of thing, to lug that heavy camera around with you,” commented Phil.
“I am,” said Sid. “It’s very interesting to study the habits of birds and animals. You’d ought to have taken that course.”
“I wish I had, instead of mathematics,” put in Tom. “I’m dead sick of them, but I guess I’ll have to stick at ’em.”
For a mile or more Sid saw nothing on which to focus his camera. He suggested that they leave the vicinity of the river and strike across country, and, as his chums left the matter entirely to him, this plan was followed. Suddenly, as they were going through a clump of trees about a mile from the stream, Sid uttered an exclamation.
“Hold on, fellows!” he cried. “I can get a beautiful snapshot here,” and he motioned them to stand still, while he got his automatic hand camera into position.
“What is it?” whispered Phil.
“A vulpes pennsylvanicus argentatus!” answered Sid as he turned the focusing screw.