Chums of the Camp Fire | Page 3

patient Toby was beginning to
despair of ever calling it a "pet."
Some of the others had even begun to call Toby the "menagerie man,"
because of this inordinate love for pets. They said he dreamed every

night of going out to Africa or India, and collecting wild animals for
the various zoological gardens of the country.
Toby's parents allowed him to do about as he pleased. No doubt they
expected to see this present fad run its course, and that some new
notion would eventually displace it. They knew that boys must have a
hobby of some sort. With one it may be a mania for collecting things in
the line of autographs or postage stamps; while another may start to
stuff birds, secure all sorts of eggs, make fishing rods, take pictures
with a modern little kodak camera, or one of dozens of other things that
are apt to appeal to the modern lad.
Toby was afflicted with a bad case of stammering, that of course struck
him harder whenever he chanced to be laboring under excitement.
There were times, however, when Toby surprised his chums by talking
as plainly and steadily as any one of them could do. Though these
lapses were but temporary, and he would fall back into the old
miserable rut again, at least they gave hope that in time the boy might
control himself, and fling off the habit for good.
The four chums had been making ready to spend their Easter holidays
in the woods, so as to have a breath of the open after a severe winter.
Easter came unusually late that year, and the spring had already
advanced very far, so that leaves were beginning to appear on the forest
trees far ahead of the usual time.
Just to get their hands in the boys had started out on this Saturday to
see how the frog supply promised. All of them were exceedingly fond
of fried frogs' legs, which they declared beat any spring chicken ever
hatched. And since there were already thirteen plump white "saddles,"
as the two attached hind-legs are called, in the basket, it began to look
as though something like a feast would follow, at a number of Carson
houses.
While Steve was making his way around the little bayou in the pond,
intent on securing his prize, which promised to excel in size any of
those they had already "dressed," the other three started to talk over
their plans for the little vacation in the woods.

There never were four boys who got more benefit out of an outing than
these Carson lads. They planned for it far in advance, and enjoyed this'
part of the excursion almost as much as the thing itself. Max Hastings
knew so many things in connection with the woods; and they had also
picked up such a world of information when spending those halcyon
days up with old Trapper Jim, that it made it unusually pleasant when
they were in camp, trying out new ideas, and copying others which they
had watched the woodsman do.
"Have a care, Steve!" Max called out, as the one who was making his
way around the little bayou slipped, and splashed the water in his
eagerness to accomplish the errand that had taken him there; "you'll get
a ducking yet if you don't slow up some! Rome wasn't built in a day,
remember!"
"Yes," added Toby, "and you b-b-bet the w-w-water's c-c-cold right
now! Don't I k-k-know when I p-p-put my hand in?"
"Oh! don't bother your heads about me," sang out Touch-and-go Steve,
carelessly; "I guess I c'n look out for myself all right. One more turn
and I'll be there. And I c'n see your eyes stickin' out of your heads when
you handle this gi-gantic frog of mine! Wow! but he is a whopper,
though!"
He seemed so eager to lay hands on his prize, just as though the big
greenback might recover, and hop into the pond before his very eyes,
that possibly Steve was not quite as careful as his boastful words would
indicate.
"I don't know about taking any frog legs home this time," Bandy-legs
was saying, in a half regretful tone; "our girl says she won't cook the
same, and my folks seem like they was set against frog for eatin'. Now I
like 'em first-rate, but you see I've just got to keep on the good side of
our cook, 'cause she gives me lots of scraps for my pet cub. And if that
cute little bungler don't improve pretty soon, I just don't know what I'm
agoin' to do with him. He makes us so much trouble all the time, playin'
his innocent pranks, but scarin' the cook half out of her seven senses."

Thereupon Toby became