ething downstairs, and then run out."

"Fat chance! She'd give the alarm and they'd all come on the jump."

"Well, if _I_ can get out, I should think _you_ could," she taunted
him.

"How'd we get back in? Suppose parents got back before we did."

Her inspiration flared like a torch.

"We'd sleep in the tents all night."

"Gee!" said Herbert. This was sheer daring. It captured his imagination.
He decided to submit it to the others. A council was called. They in
turn were struck dumb by the idea that they should spend a night in the
woods, untrammelled by authority.

It took an enormous amount of planning and preparation. The problem of
the best means of escape for each member was taken up and decided upon.
The hour for meeting, and the place, were named. Governesses as a rule
had their dinners early, with the children. Later, each boy was to
complain of weariness or headache and go directly to bed. At nine
o'clock they would make a getaway and meet at a certain spot, centrally
located for them all. All of them had ponies, so they could ride to the
trysting place. Blankets must be brought by each camper, and it was
agreed that they would sleep in their clothes.

The day came. As the idea was to be kept secret from all girls, Isabelle
had some trouble managing not even to see Margie Hunter, with whom she
was, ostensibly, to spend the day. She induced Wally to drop her at the
Hunters' on the way to the club.

The boys were hard at work. They greeted her casually, as was their
habit. It was the way they kept up the bluff to themselves that they
had no use for girls. Isabelle was satisfied with their manners. She
knew in her own mind that she was the brains of the whole concern, so
why cavil at their bluff, male ways?

They worked like beavers all day long. They went without any luncheon.
They lugged out the tents and set them up. They made beds of boughs.
They laid fires ready for the torch. They cached the grub in a hollow
tree out of the way of prowling creatures. They carried out pails of
drinking water, and borrowed the kitchen utensils from Margie's
playhouse. It was late afternoon when they limped wearily back to the
Hunters' in search of food.

"Mother was awf'ly mad at you, Isabelle, because you kept luncheon
waiting," said Margie, snippily. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, we were playing, and we thought we'd go without any lunch. I hope
there's tea, though," she added.

There was; and they put away quan