ith my work here in the garden," Tom told him, "so
suppose you come around to the gate, or hop over the fence here. We'll
go up to my room and take a look over the stuff that I expect to pack
out of Lenox Monday A. M. I want to ask your opinion about several
things, and was thinking of calling you up on the 'phone when I heard
you speak just now."

Of course the main object Tom had in view was not so much getting
Carl's opinion as to arouse his interest in the projected trip, so that
for the time being he might forget his troubles.

The two boys spent an hour chatting, and consulting a map Tom produced
that was supposed to cover most of the Big Bear Mountain territory. It
had been made by an old surveyor some years back, simply to amuse
himself, and while not quite up to date might be said to be fairly
accurate.

Mr. Witherspoon had secured this chart and loaned it to Tom, for there
was always a possibility of his receiving a sudden call on business
that would take him away from town, when the duty of engineering the
trip must fall to the leader of the Black Bear Patrol as the second in
command.

That was going to be an unusually long and tedious Sunday for a good
many boys in Lenox. Doubtless they would have their thoughts drawn from
the sermon, as they sat with their folks in the family pews. And, too,
looking out of the window at the waving trees they would probably
picture themselves far away on the wooded slope of Big Bear Mountain,
perhaps making their first camp, and starting the glorious fire around
which, as the night drew on, they would gather to tell stories and sing
school songs.

And it could be set down as certain that few of those who expected to
join the adventurous spirits starting forth on the long mountain hike
slept very soundly on the last night.

When the hour agreed on, seven o'clock, came around, there was a scene
of bustle under the tower of the church, where the scouts had gathered,
together with many friends both young and old who meant to give them a
noisy send-off on their hike over Big Bear Mountain.

CHAPTER XI

ON THE WAY

Amidst many hearty cheers and the clapping of hands the Boy Scouts
started off. Felix Robbins had been elected bugler of the troop, and as
there was no regular instrument for him, he had thought to fetch along
the fish horn the boys used in playing fox and geese.

This he sounded with considerable vim as the khaki-clad lads marched
away, with a fla