get fidgety. You won't ever freeze the way you're hanging
over that forge. What's the matter, Romper?" asked Bruce.

"Busted the frame of my snowshoe. Trying to make a little brace for it
and get it fixed up before you fellows arrived."

"When'll you be ready? Where are the rest of the fellows?"

"They're upstairs. I'll be ready in a jiffy now."

The two scouts crossed the shop and made their way noisily up the wooden
stairs to the meeting room, where they found half a dozen lads in an
animated discussion as to where the biggest and best Christmas trees were
to be found.

"I tell you the forest fire cleaned everything out of the Long Lake
district," asserted Ray Martin.

"Well, I suppose you want us to go all the way over into Bland County
this cold day," said fat Babe Wilson sarcastically.

"Speaking of forest fires," said Bruce, who had come into the room just
in time to hear Ray Martin's remark; "speaking of forest fires, did any
of you fellows see the Northern Lights last night up back of Haystack
Mountain? Father and I thought first it _was_ a forest fire. The sky was
all pink and white. But we concluded it must have been the reflection of
the Aurora Borealis. You can see 'em this time of year, you know. Snow
helps their reflection, Pop says."

"Is that what it was? I saw it too, and when I saw the red glow in the
sky I just naturally thought of that Long Lake fire last month. Say, by
the way I got a postal card from that fellow in Boston, we rescued.
Remember? Dave Connors is his name--Gollies, every time I think of
forest fires I shudder. He sure had a close squeak and so did we.
That's why that glow in the sky last night sort of made an impression on
me. I wondered if any one was caught in it, same as we were nearly
caught?" said Nipper Knapp.

"Aw, I tell you it wasn't a fire. It was the Northern Lights back of
Haystack Mountain. Dad said so, and he knows, and, say, speaking of
Haystack Mountain," added Bruce, "why not go up there for our tree? If
this is going to be the town's Christmas tree it must be a whopper. Most
all of that land up there belongs to the people Mr. Ford works for and he
has permission from them to cut as many trees as we need. How about it?"

"By Jiminy! that's just what I said, Bruce," cried Jiminy Gordon, "and
Romper agrees with me."

"Sure I do," said Romper, suddenly making his appearance from the
workshop, his mended snowshoe in hand.

"Then it's Ha