Part 33 (1/2)

”I'm afraid not,” agreed d.i.c.k.

”And so, one of these nights, Mr. Fits will come back, ready to pay us back for our plan to turn him over to the police.”

”We took care of him before, didn't we?” Prescott wanted to know.

”Yes; but Fits was alone, then, and the blizzard kept him from getting away to get help of his own choice kind. Now he can travel as much as he likes. We'll hear from him again, all right,” Dave Darrin wound up.

”If we do, then we'll find a way to take care of him once more,” hinted Prescott.

”Or we might vote that we've had a jolly good lot of camping, and go home,” suggested Harry.

”What? Let that rascal chase us out of the woods?” flared d.i.c.k. ”All who want to go home may start. I'll stay here as long as I want to, even if I have to camp alone.”

”You know pretty well, d.i.c.k, that you won't have to stay in camp alone,”

offered Dave.

”Of course not,” agreed Tom Reade. ”We'll all stick. We'll hope that Fitsey won't come back. If he does, then we'll try to make him sorry that he returned.”

From the doorway of the log cabin Hen Dutcher was seen to be peering forth cautiously.

”Say, you fellows,” hailed Hen complainingly, ”I thought you were never coming back. I thought you had all got scared and ran away.”

”Then why didn't you run away with us?” Dave called out.

”That isn't my style,” proclaimed Dutcher, throwing out his chest. ”I'm no baby.”

”No; you're the one hero of the whole outfit,” grinned Tom.

”Did they catch old Fitsey?” queried Hen.

”Thanks to you, Hen, they didn't,” Dave answered.

”Me? What did I have to do with the scoundrel getting away?” demanded Dutcher, with an offended air.

”You had to turn your voice loose,” Darrin informed him. ”That gave Mr.

Fits warning. Then you yelled out again, just as we reached the cabin.

Fits had had time to get on his snowshoes, and then he started. Whew, but snowshoes seem to be as swift as skates would be on the ice.”

”Huh! You needn't blame me,” sniffed Hen. ”I didn't have anything to do with the rascal getting away. I'd have gone after him if I had had snowshoes.”

The absurdity of this was so apparent that d.i.c.k & Co. burst into a chorus of laughter.

”Huh!” sneered Hen, though his face went very red. ”You fellows think you're the only winds that ever blew.”

”You wrong us, Hen,” declared Tom solemnly. ”Not one of us would lay any claim to 'blowing' as much as you do.”

One thing the boys had noted, even while carrying on their conversation, and that was that no sounds of shots had come to their ears. The chances were that Mr. Fits had gained so on his pursuers that the latter had given up the chase.