e than wildcats, and we have to take old Jean's word for it
about the wolves. He claimed to have seen wolves in these woods three
years ago. As a matter of fact they chased him out, and he was obliged
to turn civilized for three months."

"Who is old Jean?" asked Tom, much interested.

"He is a French-Canadian hunter who has lived somewhere in this forest
for years. He comes into town occasionally, looking like Daniel Boone,
dressed in skins with a squirrel cap, and carrying a bunch of rabbits
that he sells to the butchers."

"He's a great sight," said Grace. "I saw him on his snowshoes one day.
He was coming down Upton Hill, where we coasted, you know, Anne, and he
sped along the fields faster than David's motor cycle."

They had been walking for some time over the hard-packed snow and were
now well into the forest, which hemmed them in on every side and seemed
to stretch out in all directions into infinite space.

"Reddy, are you perfectly sure we won't get lost in this place?"
demanded Jessica at last.

They had been walking along silently intent on their own thoughts.
Perhaps it was the grandeur of the great snow-laden trees that oppressed
them; perhaps the vast loneliness of the place, where nothing was
stirring, not even a rabbit.

"We're all right," returned Reddy. "My compass tells me. We go due north
till we want to start home and then we can either turn around and go
back due south or turn west and go home by the road."

"I have neither compass nor watch," said Hippy, "but nature's timepiece
tells me that it's lunch time. This cold air gives me an appetite."

"Gives you one?" cried David. "You old anaconda, you were born with an
appetite. You started eating boiled dumplings when you were two years
old."

"Who told you so?" demanded Hippy.

"Never mind," said David. "It's an old story in Oakdale."

"Let's feed the poor soul," interposed Grace. "It would be wanton
cruelty to keep him waiting any longer."

"He'll have to make the fire, then," said Reddy. "Make him pay for his
dumplings if he wants 'em so early."

"All right, Carrots," cried Hippy. "I'll gather fagots and make a fire,
just to keep you from talking so much."

"I'll help you, Hippy," said Nora. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I am
very hungry too. It's the people who are never able to eat at the table,
and then go off and feed up in the pantry, who always manage to shirk
their work."

The others all laughed.

"Let's make a fair