lers,
were fetched and hung in place, and the cabin formally christened.

"And next week," said Frank Sanson, as they were packing up for their
tramp home through the crisp twilight, "we can come out to camp, can't
we, Mr. Curtis?"

The scoutmaster nodded. "Provided the weather is decent and you all get
your parents' consent, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't spent
Friday night here. It may be a bit crowded, but we'll manage some way."

As a matter of fact they did not have to. Indeed, there came very near
being no overnight hike at all. During the building of the cabin the
weather had been singularly favorable. It was snapping cold much of the
time but save for a flurry or two of snow, the days had been uniformly
clear. Now, however, as if to make up for her smiles, Nature proceeded to
frown. Wednesday was overcast, and all day Thursday a cold rain came
down to damp the spirits of the would-be campers. It turned to snow
during the night, and next morning found the country-side covered with a
mantle of white. The temperature was well below freezing and dropping
steadily, and Mr. Curtis, who had practically given up the idea of
occupying the cabin that night, was surprised toward the middle of the
afternoon by the appearance at his door of a group of white-flecked
figures, very rosy of cheek and bright of eye, carrying blanket-rolls
and hung about with cooking utensils and sundry parcels.

"We can go, can't we, sir?" inquired Ted MacIlvaine, eagerly, as he
dusted the snow off his coat. "You're not going to give it up, are you?"

The scoutmaster's eyebrows lifted. "Have you all got permission?" he
asked doubtfully.

"Yes, sir. We can go if you go," came in a prompt chorus.

For a moment Mr. Curtis hesitated. After all, there couldn't be any
risk about the trip even if the storm continued all night. The cabin
was weather-proof, and enough fire-wood had been cut to last them a
week. With plenty of food and good blankets they would be as snug as
possible, and he knew from experience the charm of the woods in a
snow-storm. Looking the bunch over appraisingly, he saw that there
were only seven--MacIlvaine, Parker, Dale Tompkins, Frank Sanson, Bob
Gibson, Turk Gardner and Pete Oliver, all self-reliant boys of the type
who were willing to stand a little roughing it without complaint.

"Are you the only ones who want to go?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," returned MacIlvaine. "Sherman's away, and Wes has a cold. The
other