suddenly. "What's the use,
Uncle George? You know's well as I do, the folks ain't going to stand
for anything like that. Why, dad'd have a fit if he thought I was in
Africa. What's the use of dreaming?"

"Here--trot along!" His uncle seized his arm and drew him on toward
home. "I guess you're right about that, Burt. Anyhow, you keep mum and
let me do the talking. Mind, now, don't you butt in anywhere along the
line. I'm dead in earnest, young man. Maybe we'll be able to do
something if you lie low and let me handle it. Understand?"

"I understand," replied Burt a trifle more hopefully. "Gee! If I could
only go! Could I shoot real lions and elephants, uncle?"

"Dozens of 'em!" laughed Mr. Wallace cheerfully. "Where I want to go
there are no game laws to hinder. You'd have a tough time for a while,
though. It's not like a camping trip up the Maine coast."

"Oh, shucks!" replied the boy eagerly. "Why, there ain't a boy in the
world that wouldn't be crazy to hike with you. They've _got_ to let me
go!"

Although nearly bursting with his secret Burt said nothing of it until
he returned to the shops that afternoon and joined Critch. Then he was
unable to hold in and he poured out the story to his chum. Critch
listened in incredulous amazement, which changed to cheerful envy when
he found Burt was not joking.

"Why, you dog-goned old bookworm!" he exclaimed when Burt finished. The
red-headed boy was genuinely delighted over his chum's good luck. "Think
of you out there shootin' your head off, while I'm plugging away here
at home! Think your folks'll kick?"

"Of course they will," groaned Burt gloomily. "Ever know a feller to
want any fun, without his folks kicking like sin? They like Uncle George
a heap, but when it comes to takin' the darlin' boy where he can have a
reg'lar circus, it's no go. Darn it, I wish I was grown-up and didn't
have any boss!"

"It'll be a blamed shame if they don't let you go, old sport!" agreed
Critch with a smile. "But you haven't asked 'em yet. Mebbe they'll come
around all right."

"Huh!" grunted Burt sarcastically. "Mebbe I'll find a million dollars in
my clothes to-morrow morning! Say--"

"Well? Spit her out!" laughed Critch as Burt paused suddenly.

"S'pose I could work you in on the game!" cried Burt enthusiastically.
"That'd help a lot if the folks knew you were going, too, and if your
dad would fall for it we might take you as some kind of assistant! I
tell you--I'll take you as