After he had gone, turning to wave to them ere he passed around the bend to follow the lane leading up to his own farmhouse, the scouts started in the direction of the camp.
When they arrived they were met with a multitude of questions from those who had not been so fortunate as to go on the tracking expedition. The story was soon told, for there was not much to it; still, it seemed to most of them that this coming of the angry farmer was a good beginning to their outing.
“Our first day in camp,” remarked Billy Worth, as he assisted in getting supper ready, “and already we’ve had two adventures. The signs look good for a real lively time of it up here, seems to me.”
Others were thinking along similar lines. Indeed, it did seem as though the members of the Wolf Patrol always did manage to be on hand when anything worth while was taking place. At least it had been their good luck to be connected with quite a number of lively episodes worth keeping a record of.
When a party of fun-loving boys have gone into camp there is always more or less humor abounding. High spirits are the rule, and everything is taken in the light of a joke.
As they sat around and discussed that evening meal, with the three dun-colored tents lending an air of business to the scene, as viewed in the light of the crackling campfire, the utmost hilarity ruled the hour.
The camp cooks had done their work with credit, and were loudly praised; though possibly there was a method in this flattery, since hopes were entertained that it might induce the officiating cooks to keep on trying to excel one another.
Just about the time they had finished everything in sight in the way of cooked food, and Bud Morgan was trying to squeeze one of the two coffeepots in the hope of extracting a few more drops of the beloved amber fluid, Harold Tremaine, who chanced to be on his feet at the time, sang out:
“Visitors coming, fellows! No, there’s only one, it seems, and I declare if it isn’t our friend the farmer!”
“And he’s got some sort of basket along with him, too!” ejaculated Billy Worth, unconsciously rubbing the pit of his stomach in anticipation; for if the truth must be told, Billy was very fond of eating, and his first thought seemed to be that possibly the grateful farmer might be going to donate something worth while to their stock of edibles.