n was now on for all game
excepting rabbits and hares, and if they wanted to hunt these they might
take their 22 caliber rifles. In fact he wasn't sure but this would be a
good idea, as bunnies were plentiful and hunting them on snow-shoes
might afford some excellent sport.

"What about fish? Will there be a chance to do some fishing through the
ice?" asked Hal.

Pat smiled at Hal's eagerness. "There are just as big pickerel under the
ice as ever swam," he averred, "and if you are willing to do some real
work and chop out holes I think I can promise you some whales without
the trouble of swimming for them."

There was a general laugh at this thrust at Hal, whose adventure with a
big pickerel, during which he and Plympton had been capsized from a
raft, was one of the never-to-be-forgotten incidents of the search for
Lost Trail.

"But you haven't told us yet just where we are going, where your camp
is, you know," Walter broke in.

Just then the honk, honk of an automobile sounded from the front of the
house.

"There's the car!" cried Hal. "We'll have to be getting a move on, or
Pat will lose his beauty sleep and be in no shape for to-morrow. We'll
be round at 9:30 sharp in the morning, Walter. I don't want to get Pat
up too early."

"Early!" Pat fairly snorted. "Arrah now! Do yez play all night and slape
all day in Noo Yor-r-k?" he demanded.

CHAPTER III

THE BLUE TORTOISE PATROL

Sparrer, otherwise Edward Muldoon, smallest Scout in the Blue Tortoise
Patrol, darted back from the corner to the group waiting about the
up-town entrance to the subway.

"He's coming!" he shrilled. "An' two guys wid him, de one wid de dough
an' de biggest rube yer ever put yer peepers on!"

The announcement was electrifying and there was an immediate rush to
look down the street.

"It's Walt and Harrison all right, but who in the dickens is that with
them, and where did they find him?" exclaimed Ned Patterson.

"Gee, look at the size of him! He's a rube, all right, by the looks of
him, but I'd hate to tell him so," muttered Chick Parsons.

"Red headed and Irish at that! Say, fellers, we'll have some fun with
him," chortled Jack Norwood.

"Quit your kidding and fall in for a salute!" snapped Assistant Leader
McNulty.

Instantly the patrol lined up and as Walter approached, Hal on one side
and Pat on the other, seven hands were raised as one in the Scout
salute. It was returned by the three older lads.

"Somebody