"It'll amuse 'em." "What's that ?" demanded Ripley, when the informer returned to the cabin with his news.

"Prescott and his collection of babies are going to make trouble for us, are they?
Can't they stand a good joke like men?
Come along, fellows, and we'll teach 'em a little more about being real men." "We'd better take something in our hands, then," proposed Dodge firmly.
"Those little fellows are regular spitfires.

They may have something ready to throw at us when we break into the shack." "Oh, take axes, then, if you are afraid of the little kids," retorted Fred scornfully.

"My hands are enough for me." Four or five of the rowdyish crowd picked up sticks that they had carried through the forest that afternoon.

Thus prepared, they went out of the log cabin on tip-toe, making their way stealthily to the door of the shack.
"Say, fellows," Harry was at that moment proposing to his friends inside, "hadn't we better drop the bar across the door?
We can't tell when we may receive an unexpected visit from----" "How will now do ?" roared Fred Ripley, throwing the shack door open before Greg could drop the bar in place.