For a mile or more Sid saw nothing on which to focus his camera. He suggested that they leave the vicinity of the river and strike across country, and, as his chums left the matter entirely to him, this plan was followed. Suddenly, as they were going through a clump of trees about a mile from the stream, Sid uttered an exclamation. "Hold on, fellows!" he cried. "I can get a beautiful snapshot here," and he motioned them to stand still, while he got his automatic hand camera into position. "What is it?" whispered Phil. "A _vulpes pennsylvanicus argentatus_!" answered Sid as he turned the focusing screw. "What's that, for the love of Mike?" spoke Tom. "Blessed if I know," retorted Phil. "I don't see anything. Maybe it's a snake." "It's a fox, you chumps!" came from Sid. "Keep still, can't you? I've got him just right. He can't see me, and the wind is blowing from him to me. I'll have his picture in a minute!" But, as bad luck would have it, just as Sid was about to press the lever, releasing the shutter, Phil leaned too heavily on one foot. A stick broke under him with a snap, there was a sudden rustling in the bushes, and Sid uttered a cry of dismay. "There he goes!" cried the naturalist. "What's the matter with you fellows, anyhow? Can't you keep still? Now it will take me an hour to trail him, and the chances are I can't do it." "It wasn't my fault," explained Tom. "Phil did it." "I couldn't help it," came from the guilty one. "What do you want to photograph such scary things as foxes for, anyhow?" "Humph!" was Sid's exclamation. "Well, there's no help for it. Come on." "Where?" inquired Tom. "After the fox, of course," and Sid started resolutely forward. Tom and Phil followed for a short distance, then Phil called out: "Say, it's getting swampy here." "What of it?" asked Sid, whose enthusiasm would not let him notice such small matters. "Lots of it," came from Tom. "We're getting our feet wet." "Ah, don't be babies!" retorted Sid, plunging into a deep, muddy hole. "Come on." "I'm going to find a dryer path," said Phil, and Tom agreed with him. They turned aside, but Sid kept on. Soon he was lost to sight in the woods. Phil and Tom looked in vain for a better route, and, finding none, decided to turn back. "We'll wait for you out on the main road," Phil called to his unseen chum. An indistinguishable answer came back. The two picked their way to higher ground, and edged off toward the road which skirted the woods. "Photographing in a swamp is too rich for my blood," commented Phil. "Same here," agreed Tom. "But Sid doesn't seem to mind it. Smoked mackerel, look at my shoes!" and he glanced at his muddy feet. "I'm in as bad," added Phil. "Let's walk through the grass and----" Just then they heard Sid calling from afar. "What's he saying?" asked Tom. "Listen," advised Phil. Again the cry was heard. "Sounds as if he was calling for us to come to him," ventured Tom.