this weather. We make money
though--or Critch does. We've done lots of birds for a dollar each, and
we got five for Chuck's bulldog."

"I wish you'd take me over to your friend's home to-morrow night if
you've nothing special on," replied Mr. Wallace. "I'd like to have a
little chat with him. Are his parents living?"

"His father is, but not his mother. They only live about three blocks
down the line. We'll go over after supper."

"Well, I'll go back and write another chapter before going to bed." Mr.
Wallace rose and departed. He left Burt wondering. Why did his uncle
want to see Critch?

He wondered more than ever the next evening. When they arrived at the
small frame house in which Howard and his father lived, Mr. Wallace
chatted with the boys for a little and then turned to Mr. Critchfield, a
kindly, shrewd-eyed man of forty-five.

"Mr. Critchfield, suppose we send the boys off for a while? I'd like to
have a little talk with you if you don't mind."

"All right, uncle," laughed Burt. "We'll skin out. Come on up to the
house, Critch."

When they got outside, the red-haired boy's curiosity got the better of
him and he asked Burt what his uncle wanted with his father.

"Search me," answered Burt thoughtfully. "He put me through the third
degree yesterday about skinning deer. Next time he gives me a chance
I'll ask him about taking you along."

"What!" exclaimed Howard. "Have your folks come around?"

"I don't know. I'm leaving it all to Uncle George. Believe me, they've
got to come around or I'll--I'll run away!"

"Yes, I've got a picture o' you running away!" grinned Critch. "Mebbe
dad'll tell me what's up when I get home."

But Critch was not enlightened that night nor for many nights
thereafter. This was the last week of school and Burt was too busy with
his examinations to waste much time speculating on the African trip.
Howard was also pretty well occupied, although not trying for any
scholarship, and for the rest of the week both boys gave all their
attention to school. On Friday evening Burt arrived home jubilantly.

"Done!" he shouted, bursting in on his mother and uncle. "Got it!"

"What, the scholarship? How do you know?" asked his mother in surprise.

"Prof. Garwood tipped me off. Won't get the reg'lar announcement till
commencement exercises next week but he says I needn't worry! Hurray!
One more year and then Yale for mine!"

"Good boy!" cried Mr. Wallace. "Guess you've plugged for it t