Bud paused for breath, holding one hand poised with fingers outspread,
just as he had been counting them off as so many points to note.

"Now, then," he continued, "it's up to us to listen and learn,---and
to beat the other fellows to it!"

"_How-ooo-ooo_!" came an approving chorus.

At that moment a distant squealing told that the Otters were waxing
enthusiastic, also. Down by the pier at the lakeside, Tom Sherwood
had gathered his patrol,---to which Ralph Kenyon had been added for
the period of his visit.

Tom had just been explaining some facts that he had learned while
with the surveyors on Ralph's farm, and even Buck Winter had shown
a responsive interest.

Dick Bellamy, as usual, was keenly alive to the prospects in store,
foreseeing plenty of fun as well as work.

"I'll tell you one thing, fellows," he began.

"And that's not two," interrupted Sam Winter impudently.

"Somebody, please put the lid on that youngster a minute," continued
Dick, looking at Sam in well-assumed indignation. "As I was saying,---or
about to say,---I have often wished that I knew more about the
queer formations along the banks of rivers where I have gone on
fishing trips. My father has always had a good deal to say about
'erosion,' and 'glacial periods' and 'stratification' and 'natural