"Oh, yes, we shall," returned the other. "I guess you don't know where the land is."
"Maybe not," said Nat, slowly. "I heard it was pretty close to being off the map—that's all. Say, Sam, why don't you fellows let me in?"
Nat arose, flicked a few spots of dust from his coat, and continued, persuasively: "If you will only stand up for me, Bob Somers may change front at once. It isn't a nice way to treat a friend, I'm sure."
It seemed rather strange to Sam Randall that a high-spirited boy like Nat, who until recently had professed such a dislike for Bob, should now be so willing to ask a favor of him.
"When are you fellows going to meet?" persisted Nat.
"The day after to-morrow."
"Well, Sam, fix it up for me, that's a good fellow," urged Nat, in his most pleasant manner. "I'll see that you don't lose anything by it."
"He's a queer fellow," thought Sam, as he resumed his way. "He can be very pleasant, too, when he wants anything."
As the days slipped by, the members of the Rambler Club made all preparations for their voyage, always being polite to Nat Wingate, who on several occasions suggested his wish to be a member, but never received any encouragement. Guns were cleaned and polished, and rods and tackle brought out from the place where they had been stored the autumn before. Then a list of the articles required for the trip was made. It included blankets, corned beef, potted tongue, bacon, sardines, tea, coffee, flour, sugar, salt, pepper, canned goods and a varied assortment of tin plates, together with kitchen utensils, court plaster and a few simple remedies which Mr. Somers thought it might be well to take.
The Ramblers were eager to start, and they agreed that on the following Tuesday the sail of the "Lively," as Dave had humorously christened his boat, should be hauled aloft, and their journey to the wilderness begun.