s, the never-ending battle of the
weather goes on, with its brigades of warring clouds, its wind-cavalry
and its artillery of storm. The sky holds more secrets than the city
does and there's a lot of adventurous work to be done. Which of you is
game to do it? Who'll volunteer?"

An excited babble of answers greeted him.

"I will, Mr. Levin!" cried one.

"Sure!" said another.

"Put me down for it," proclaimed a third, voicing the general sentiment.

Ross brought the matter to a point.

"The way I feel about it," he said, "I reckon we'd all like to tackle
something like that. And, I tell you, chaps, it would be bully for us to
have a club-house of our own."

"A club-house!" cried one.

"Yes," said Ross, "Anton's father is ready to give us the old barn. He
says we can fix it up any way we like."

"All for our own?"

"Yes, to do anything we like with. Mr. Levin has given me some bully
ideas about things we can do, and Bob's thought up a scheme that's just
great!" and he proceeded to explain the lad's offer of wireless.

The enthusiasm of the boys was rapidly growing. With the Forecaster
behind him, with Anton's rain-gauge, with the new sun-dial staring them
in the face, with Bob's plan for the wireless plant, with a club-house
of their own and the admitted leadership of Ross, the whole group was
swinging into line.

"Tell you what I'll do for my share, fellows," said another of the boys.
"You know that printing-press of mine?"

"You mean the one you printed the pirate flags on, Fred?" queried Ross,
referring to the Treasure Island period when the boat was made.

"Yes. Ever since Dad found that he had to use the shed I used to keep
the press in, I haven't had much chance to get at it. I'll ship the
press over here, if there'd be room for it in our club-house," the words
were said with great pride. "We could print a little weekly paper. I
wanted to do that last year, but Dad said that he didn't want me to
print nothing but gossip, and there didn't seem anything else to write.
If we really had some stuff worth reading, like weather news, I'm sure I
could make it go. Enough, anyhow, to pay for paper and mailing."

"You think we ought to issue a regular weather bulletin," said Ross.
"That's a good notion, Fred."

"I'll let you have some of my stories," said one.

"Or Fatty's jokes," suggested another, dodging a nudge of the elbow from
his neighbor.

"A weather bulletin would be a good thing," the Forecaste