to finish this time. But I also have a notion that I want to do
some ivory hunting in the Congo. If the pull doesn't get too strong I
may stay a month or two."

"Hurray!" chipped in Burt, enthusiastically. "Come along to the frat
meeting and tell us about the war last year! We got a 'nitiation on an'
you can boss it!"

"No thanks!" laughed his uncle heartily. "When I want to do any
lecturing I'll let you know, Burt. By gracious, Tom, the boy looks like
a ghost! Been sick?"

"No," replied Mr. St. John gravely. "I'm afraid he's overworked. He's
been trying for a scholarship at Yale that the high school offers, and
the strain has been a little too much."

"Hm! Won't do, Burt," declared Mr. Wallace. "Books are all right but no
use running 'em into the ground. Play baseball?"

"Sure!" replied Burt. "Not this spring though. Been too busy. Besides,
I've been helpin' Critch with some stuff."

"Critch?" repeated his uncle, puzzled. "Who's Critch?"

"Howard Critchfield," replied Mr. St. John. "His father is my head
draftsman and Burt and Howard are great chums. Howard has a room down at
the shops where he works afternoons and putters around at taxidermy."

Burt glanced at his watch and rose hastily. It was past seven and he had
forgotten the time.

"See you later, uncle!" he said as he went to the door. What a tale he
would have for the other boys! Despite his uncle's refusal to come with
him Burt knew that once he got "the crowd" up to the house Mr. Wallace
would provide a most delightful evening.

The next day the explorer's trunks arrived and he got settled in his old
quarters. These were filled with hunting trophies, guns and foreign
costumes from every quarter of the world. For two days Burt did not see
his uncle except at meals, but on Friday evening Mr. Wallace announced
that he would like to take a look at the works the next day. Burt
promptly volunteered his services, which were accepted.

"You don't look right to me, Burt!" stated Mr. Wallace as they walked
down the street after breakfast. "If we were down on the West Coast now
I would say you were in for a good dose of fever."

"Did you ever have it?" asked Burt. He did not relish such close
interest in his health, which seemed good enough to him. He also had
vivid memories of a vile-tasting remedy which his uncle had proposed for
a cold, years before.

"A dozen times," came the reply. "A chap gets it in high and low
countries alike in Africa. So you'v