mutter to himself as he started to
get busy with something or other, "they'll be clean eaten up by another
day; but that's always my luck when doughnuts are around. It's too mean
for anything."

However Steve was too good-natured a fellow to remain gloomy very long
at a stretch, and in ten minutes they heard him trolling a comical ditty
as he worked away, showing that his "doughnut fever" had calmed down
sensibly.

Meanwhile Toby after awhile made ready to wander over in the direction
of the pond where that frog chorus inspired him with high hopes of
reaping a bountiful harvest.

He had arranged a long stout pole, with a short line and a hook at the
small end. This latter he ornamented with a piece of bright red flannel
some two inches square and supplied by Max, which he was wise enough to
tie securely to the shank of the hook, well up from the barb, but so it
concealed the point.

He also carried the trouting basket slung over his shoulder by the
canvas strap, and made sure that his hunting knife had a good edge to
it, for he meant to fix the frogs as he took them, thus saving himself
more or less of a burden in carrying the useless portions along with
him.

"Steve, would you m-m-mind doing me a g-g-great favor?" Toby asked, as
he stood there all ready to make a start.

"Sure I wouldn't mind, Toby; what is it?" the other asked quickly.

"I'd like to c-c-carry your g-g-gun along with me," said Toby.

"Not to shoot frogs with, I hope?" remarked Bandy-legs, in high scorn.

"K-k-keep out of this, p-p-please, Bandy-legs," the other told him.
"Steve knows I wouldn't be g-g-guilty of doing that. But you see, a
feller can't tell what he might run up against these d-d-days, when
there's some k-k-kind of mysterious animal p-p-prowlin' around. D-d-did
you s-s-say yes, Steve?"

"You're as welcome to the little Marlin as flowers in spring, Toby,"
Steve told him; "and here, put several more shells in your pocket.
Remember I've got a couple with buckshot loaded in the barrels right
now. If so be you _have_ to use the gun, be sure you know what you're
banging away at, because they'd have you up for murder if you hit a poor
man with that charge."

"Oh! I'll be careful, sure I will, Steve; and t-t-thank you ever so
m-m-much for lending it to me," with which the overjoyed Toby shouldered
the weapon, and started forth.

"Sure you know where the pond lies, do you?" asked Max; "and don't
forget that the camp is due southeas