er Head Lodge would make
the remainder of their outing a very disagreeable affair. Besides,
there was really no room for any more guests under that hospitable
roof; and certainly Tolly Tip would not feel in the humor to invite
them.

So Paul had to figure it out in some other way. While Hank and his
three cronies were eating savagely, Bobolink having finished preparing
the odd meal for them, Paul took occasion to sound the one who
occupied the position of chief.

"We've brought over enough grub to last you four a week," he started
in to say, when Hank interrupted him.

"We sure think you're white this time, Paul Morrison, an' I ain't
a-goin' to hold back in sayin' so either, just 'cause we've been
scrappin' with your crowd right along. Guess you know that we come up
here partly to bother you fellers. I'm right glad we ain't had a
chance to play any tricks on you up to now. An' b'lieve me! it's goin'
to be a long time 'fore we'll forgit this thing."

Paul was, of course, well pleased to hear this. He feared, however,
that in a month from that time Hank was apt to forget the obligations
he owed the scouts, and likely enough would commence to annoy them
again.

"The question that bothers me just now," Paul continued, "is what you
ought to do. I don't suppose any of you care to stay up here much
longer, now that this blizzard has spoiled all of the fun of camping
out?"

"I've had about all I want of the game," admitted Jud Mabley,
promptly.

"Count me in too," added Sim Jeffreys. "I feel pretty sick of the
whole business, and we can't get back home any too soon to suit me."

"Same here," muttered Bud Phillips, who had kept looking at Paul for
some time in a furtive way, as though he had something on his mind
that he was strongly tempted to communicate to the scout leader.

"So you see that settles it," grinned Hank. "Even if I wanted to hang
out here all the rest o' the holidays, three agin one is most too
much. We'd be havin' all sorts o' rows every day. Yep, we'll start fur
home the fust chance we git."

That pleased Paul, and was what he had hoped to hear.

"Of course," he went on to say to Hank, "it's a whole lot shorter
cutting across country to Stanhope than going around by way of Lake
Tokala and the old canal that leads from the Radway into the Bushkill
river; but you want to be mighty careful of your compass points, or
you might get lost."

"Sure thing, Paul," remarked the other, confidently; "but t