burrowing in the hay again, when Elmer called their attention to
certain suggestive sounds outside.

"That must be Johnny and the bull pup going past on the way to the
turkey roost," ventured Mark, as they plainly caught a whine, and then
a low growl that was vicious enough to make one's blood turn cold.

"If those fellows should be reckless enough to come back to make a
second try for young turkey," Landy was saying, as though he could not
keep his mind from grappling with Hen Condit and his troubles, "they'll
be some surprised when that ferocious old Mose grabs them by the legs,
and holds on like everything."

"For one, now," admitted Toby, "I'd want to be excused from any session
with the big white teeth of Mose that stick out from his lower jaw.
But if you asked me my opinion I'd say one scare a night was as much as
any ordinary chicken thief could put up with."

"Nothing doing," muttered Lil Artha, showing that he, too, was of the
same mind as the companion scout.

At least it was very evident none of the boys expected being disturbed
again in their slumbers, for they went about settling down as though
they meant to enjoy a good long session.

"Don't wake me too early, mother dear," Toby was heard to say, half to
himself, "for to-morrow won't be the first of May, and I'm not to be
the queen of the occasion either. So please let me have my snooze out,
everybody."

Nothing did occur to disturb their slumbers which doubtless were
additionally sweet after that one break.

Elmer had them all up when he considered that it was right and proper.
True, the sun was only peeping above the horizon, and the birds still
twittered amidst the shrubbery near by; but Elmer knew what great hands
farm people are about getting up betimes, and he did not wish to keep
Mrs. Trotter's breakfast waiting for any sleepy-heads.

The grumbling ceased as if by magic the moment he mentioned that word
"breakfast," and Lil Artha immediately announced himself as being
wide-awake.

"H'm! seems like I could even smell the batter cakes frying right now,
fellows," he told them, with a smack of his lips. "Notice that I scorn
to give them the well-known name of flapjacks on this festive occasion,
because we're going to eat at a regular table, under a hospitable roof;
and it's only when in camp that wheat cakes are called flapjacks."

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," chortled Toby.

"Yes, but if you kept calling it an onio