of fat quail which he must have managed to knock down on his trip
up here.

From the way he cocked his head just then it seemed as though
Ralph must have thought he had heard some strange sound. Perhaps
Bud had spoken louder than he had meant to do. But then there
was no need of further holding back. Ralph was a member of the
same troop as themselves, and while perhaps Bud would have preferred
not increasing the number of witnesses to his own triumph or rank
failure, he saw that it could not be helped. And Bud was one
of those who can make the best of a bad bargain. Besides, Ralph
was a good fellow, and generally well liked by his companions.

Instead of calling out and telling the boy inside the shack that
a couple of weary wayfarers had arrived and meant to join him,
Hugh saw fit to give the recognized signal of the Wolves: "_How-oo-oo_!"
twice repeated.

Then as Ralph sprang to the door to take away the prop with which he
had secured it, Hugh and Bud pushed into the interior of the cabin.

Ralph stared at them but seemed decidedly pleased, for he instantly
thrust out his hand in friendly greeting.

"Well, well, who'd think you would drop in on me as if you came from
the skies?" he was saying as he worked Hugh's arm like a milkman's
pump handle. "You see, I've been coming out here for several years
every Thanksgiving afternoon to set my first traps of the season;
and while I don't expect ever to do it again, I just couldn't keep
from spending one night in the woods to revive old recollections.