might have been seen hurrying along the turnpike.
Those who owned wheels made use of them; the others rode "shanks' mare,"
skylarking as they went and hilariously seizing every chance of a lift
that came along.

Nor were they all members of Troop Five by any means. Mr. Grimstone had
needed very little persuasion to grant the privileges of the lake to
Hillsgrove scouts generally, and many were the exciting games of hockey
that enlivened the winter afternoons. More often than not the clear,
cold ring of steel on ice, the grate of swiftly turning runners, the
sharp crack of wood against wood, the excited shouts and yells of shrill
young voices, resounded on the lake until the gathering twilight made it
difficult to distinguish one swiftly moving figure from another.

From its rocky elevation the log-cabin overlooked the active scene, smoke
rising from its hospitable chimney and the red glow of a blazing fire
gleaming in the windows and winking through the often opened door. Here
congregated those who were too indifferent or unskilful to indulge in
hockey, while every now and then a player would dash in to thaw out. On
Fridays there was pretty sure to be a crowd spending the night there,
and then the odor of crisping bacon or broiling chops mingled with the
fragrance of the pines; the laughter and joshing kept up throughout
the evening, and from the gray farmhouse across the lake an old man,
glimpsing the cheery yellow gleam, would chuckle to himself and rub
his knotted hands softly together.

"Them boys are havin' a good time ag'in to-night," he would murmur.
"Reckon I'll hev' to step over an' see 'em in the mornin'."

Whenever he appeared he was sure of a hearty welcome, for underneath
that crustiness, caused by years of loneliness and narrow living, the
scouts had found a spirit as young and simple and likable, almost, as a
boy's. And the old man, reveling in this novel, pleasant intercourse,
felt sometimes as if he were beginning life all over again.

In this wise the winter passed with its usual mingling of work and play.
Coasting, hockey, snow hikes, and the like mixed healthfully with regular
lessons, the bird-feeding, studying up for merit badges or first- or
second-class tests, and other scout duties and activities. The skating,
particularly, was unusually prolonged, and the first signs of March
thaws met with general regret.

"Well, we can have one more good game, anyhow," remarked Frank Sanson, as
they came