It was arranged to start early the following Saturday morning. Mrs. Morton and Annie were up soon after daylight busy with the mysteries of fried chicken and fresh rolls. The men of the party were equally busy cleaning guns and routing out all sorts of hunting toggery. The girls tried to help everybody impartially, succeeding for the most part in making a general nuisance of themselves. At exactly seven-thirty Captain Clarke drove up with a wonderful team of blacks. His hunting jacket was belted in with a formidable looking cartridge belt, two shotguns were slid in on the floor of the spring wagon, and lunch baskets and a great earthenware jug of lemonade were wedged in under the seats. He gave a shrill hunting halloo as he drew up at the gate. Mrs. Morton was a little disturbed at the gay looking team. "Are you quite sure they are safe with the guns? You know young people are often reckless and this is a very precious load." "My dear madam, I think I can answer for Jim and Jerry. I took them out for an hour yesterday and used the gun over their heads to make sure they hadn't forgotten their manners." The Captain met the strangers of the party in his usual courteous reserved fashion, but his eyes lighted when Chicken Little ran down the walk. He established Ernest and Katie and Gertie on the back seat and swung Jane up in front to the driver's seat with Sherm on her left. "Ernest, I'll handle the ribbons going, if it suits you, and you can drive us back. I have an idea you will have the sharpest eye for game of any of this crowd. We ought to do our best work the next two hours for snipe. We probably won't find many prairie chickens until we get over on Little John. By the way, boys, be careful not to disturb the mother birds--there are still some on the nests. I really don't like to hunt quite so early in the season as this, although a good many of the young birds are shifting for themselves already--bird parents have a beautiful faith in Providence. They don't worry long about their young." A light shower had fallen the night before and the air was fresh and fragrant with the smell of wet grasses and moist earth. The rattle of wheels close behind assured them that Frank and his load were near. "Kansas certainly takes the cake for climate," Dick called to them, happily reckless about corrupting the young folk with his slang. Alice promptly reproached him. "Mrs. Morton would send you home by the first train if she heard you." Dick assumed an air of mock woe. "Oh, I say there, Chicken Little, don't mention that little matter of the cake--that particular cake isn't respectable, Alice says." It was Frank who got the first shot. "Here, Marian, take the lines quick. Hold them tight--they may jump when I fire. Turn out of the road--to the right--slowly now. Stop!"