“Picked him up in the woods about a mile down the path,” he explained. “He fired a charge of bird shot at us, and when we got hold of him we found he’d come out for the day’s shooting, missed the last train back, and hadn’t a notion of where he was going to put up to-night. There’s plenty of room here, so we thought he might as well stay and go back in the morning. He doesn’t know one end of a gun from the other, and I shall feel safer when he’s out of the woods.” “Humph!” grunted McCormick. “I never ran up against such a chump in all my life. He’s a blockhead.” Dick did not answer at once. He was thinking of the expression he had surprised on the face of the would-be sportsman a little while ago. It was not in the least like the look of a man lacking in sense. He wondered whether Mr. Percy Joblots was quite such a fool as appeared at first sight. “He does seem pretty inane, doesn’t he?” Merriwell remarked presently. “Funny thing, though, Mac. He was saying that he knew a lot of Yale men, and, when Fitz asked him if they were still at New Haven, he asked about you!” “About me?” Archie exclaimed incredulously. “Why I never saw the jackass before in my life!” “I don’t know that he said he knew you,” Dick returned, “but he gave that impression. Anyway, he knew your name.” McCormick’s face took on a puzzled look. “That’s queer,” he mused. “Wonder where the deuce he got hold of it.” Dick did not answer. His quick ear had caught the sound of a soft footfall in the adjoining room, and the next moment Joblots appeared in the doorway. “I found thome,” he said, holding up a bunch of newspapers. “Big pile of them in the fwont woom. What thall I do with them?” “Just crumple them up and put them in the fireplace,” Merriwell answered. “Never mind. Here are some of the fellows now. They’ll fix it up all right.” As he spoke the door to the woodshed opened and the three men appeared carrying four or five big logs and a lot of kindling. They proceeded at once to lay them in the dining-room fireplace, and by the time the dishes were washed a roaring fire was blazing up the cavernous chimney. “That’s all to the good,” Dick remarked, as he and Archie joined the circle about the hearth. “It certainly is cold outside.” “It sure is, pard,” Buckhart agreed. “That woodshed was like an ice house.” Fitzgerald had dragged a sofa up to one side of the blaze and sprawled full length on it. “I tell you, fellows, we’ll want to put in the night right here,” he remarked. “I hate to think of leaving this lovely warm spot and crawling in between icy sheets.” “Humph!” snorted the Texan. “How about that mattress you were making such a time about a while back?” The slim chap patted the stuffed couch appreciatively. “This is as good as any mattress,” he retorted. “Where do we come in?” demanded McCormick. “I suppose we can sit up all night on plain chairs.” Buckhart’s mouth drew down into a firm line.