"Come over an' see! Say, can you fellers skate?"
Hackett grinned.
"If there is anybody around here who can beat me, I'd like to see him."
Musgrove's loud laugh again rang out.
"As good at that as bowling over wildcats, eh? Ha, ha! Tim's dad says as how you could fix 'em. Well—I'll race you. Say, what's your name?"
The light playing on Musgrove's face displayed a grin of enormous dimensions.
The boys tittered, that is, all except the tall youth, who scowled ominously. He was quite unable to fathom Billy Musgrove's manner, or to determine whether his dignity was being assailed or not.
"John Hackett," answered the owner of that name, after a short pause.
Then the other Kingswood boys introduced themselves.
"Well, I'm glad we found you," said Tim Sladder, cheerfully. "I told mom we would. Guess we'll hike back to camp now. Don't forget to look us up to-morrow—so long, fellows! Come on, Bowser."