now the direction fairly well?"

"Yes, because I was sharp enough to make a note of it last night, Max.
You see, at the time the wind was coming in a lazy sort of way right out
of the west. Later on it swung around to the northwest, which makes it
so sharp this morning."

"Good for you, Steve," the other told him. "Then we'll head direct into
the west, and cover the ground for, say a mile, coming back over another
route. We can call out now and then, so if any one heard us they might
answer. But you'd better hurry and get your duds on, because, unless I'm
mistaken, Bandy-legs is meaning to sing out that breakfast's ready. And
you know the last to the feast is penalized when the supply runs short."

"No danger of that happening when Bandy-legs has anything to do with the
cooking," chuckled Steve, confidently; which remark proved how well
those four chums knew one another's weak points.

Of course at breakfast most of the conversation had to do with Roland
and his valiant attempt to "make good." He told his new friends many
things that interested them exceedingly, and which were connected with
his struggle. Their questions also brought them quite a fund of
information concerning the habits of foxes, and how those who aim to
raise the valuable animals for the great London fur market, go about the
business.

"As for me," said Bandy-legs, who had been doing considerable thinking
while all this talk went on, "I mean to try and hunt up a few of those
bouncer frogs Roland here says inhabit his marsh. Of course I know that
at this time of year they're deep down in the mud, and meaning to lie
there till spring thaws 'em out; but it may be I can scare up just a
mess. I'm awfully fond of frogs' legs, you may remember, boys."

They all wished him luck. Steve advised him to borrow a spade from the
owner of the woods cabin, for he might have to dig deep. Bandy-legs,
however, only grinned and showed no signs of a change of mind; for once
he set his heart on a thing and he was apt to keep everlastingly at it
until the realization, that it was quite hopeless, would compel him to
throw up the sponge, which Bandy-legs always did with a bad grace.

So breakfast was finally finished, and the boys separated. True to his
promise the would-be frog hunter set out valiantly on his errand, urged
by his love for a dainty dish. Toby had agreed to assist Roland look
after his fox brood, for there were many things he did not yet
understand conc