days to get everything ready for the trip, no
matter where we go."

"Huh!" grunted another skater, "I can certainly see warm times ahead
for the cook at _your_ house, Bobolink, provided you've still got that
ferocious appetite to satisfy."

"Oh! well, Tom Betts," laughed the other, "I notice that you seldom
take a back seat when the grub is being passed around. As for me I'm
proud of my stowage ability. A good appetite is one of the greatest
blessings a growing boy can have."

"Pity the poor father though," chuckled Wallace Carberry, "because he
has to pay the freight."

"Just to go back to the important subject," said Bluff Shipley, who
could speak as clearly as any one when not excited, "where do you
think the scouts will hike to for their Christmas holidays?"

"Well, now, a winter camp on Rattlesnake Mountain wouldn't be such a
bad stunt," suggested Tom Betts, quickly.

"For my part," remarked Bobolink, "I'd rather like to visit Lake
Tokala again, and see what Cedar Island looks like in the grip of Jack
Frost. The skating on that sheet of water must be great."

"We certainly did have a royal good time there last summer," admitted
Jack, reflectively.

"All the same," ventured Tom, "I think I know one scout who couldn't
be coaxed or hired to camp on Cedar Island again."

"Meaning Curly Baxter," Bobolink went on to say scornfully, "who
brazenly admits he believes in ghosts, and couldn't be convinced that
the place wasn't haunted."

"Curly won't be the only fellow to back out," suggested Jack. "While
we have a membership of over thirty on the muster roll of Stanhope
Troop, it isn't to be expected that more than half of them will agree
to make the outing with us."

"Too much like hard work for some of the boys," asserted Tom.

"I know a number who say they'd like to be with us, but their folks
object to a winter camp," Wallace announced. "So if we muster a
baker's dozen we can call ourselves lucky."

"Of course it must be a real snow and ice hike this time," suggested
Bluff.

"To be sure--and on skates at that!" cried Wallace, enthusiastically.

"Oh! I hope there's a chance to use our iceboats too!" sighed Tom
Betts, who late that fall had built a new flier, and never seemed
weary of sounding the praises of his as yet untried "Speedaway."

"Perhaps we may--who knows?" remarked Jack, mysteriously.

The others, knowing that the speaker was the nearest and dearest chum
of Paul Morrison, assistant scout-