“Looks as if there were going to be some doings,” said Harry.
“Not much chance of getting hold of a canoe to-day, I’m afraid,” commented Gordon.
They sauntered up the main street, and could not fail to notice that several people turned and stared at them. Harry thought it was because of their rather battered and disheveled appearance. As they passed the post-office, a little crowd of city fellows called tauntingly after them.
“There’s a couple of them, now,” said one.
“Hurrah for the Boy Spouts!” another shouted. “Sh-h-h!” said another. “They’re on the trail of a deer—don’t disturb them!”
Gordon glanced back, laughing cheerfully at his own expense, and noticed that one of the fellows had a flag with the words WELDEN SCHOOL on it, and that several others wore pale blue sweaters bearing a W on the chest.
“Them chaps is goin’ to win the regetty,” volunteered a black-coated man near by, who looked pathetically uncomfortable in his gala attire. “They’re champion experts.”
“Bully for them,” said Harry, cheerily.
Presently, as they passed a pleasant cottage, a woman with a battalion of small children turned in at the gate.
“Give me the key,” they heard her say to one of the boys.