"This is not the ruffed grouse, or partridge, of New England," explained his father, "but a different species. It is often called the 'fool hen,' because it is so stupid. You might fire a dozen times without inducing it to fly, and you can go up quite close to it if you wish. It's more sportsmanlike, though, to give the bird a chance." Roly accordingly stood where he was, fired, and missed. Uncle Will then brought down the bird with his revolver, and later, David and Roly plucked and dressed it, with some assistance from Long Peter, and cooked it for their supper. David awoke, one morning, to find his younger brother observing him with a curious expression in his eyes, the cause of which he was at a loss to discover. "What in the world is the matter with your face, Dave?" said Roly, as soon as he saw that his tent-mate was awake. "Matter with my face?" repeated David, sleepily. "Why, nothing. What makes you think so?" "You don't look a bit natural," said Roly. "Oh, come!" muttered David. "What are you talking about? I'm all right, I tell you;" and he gazed drowsily up at the canvas above him, through which the morning light filtered. "Oh! you are, are you?" said Roly. "Well, I advise you to look in a mirror before you go outside, that's all." But David neglected the warning. His appearance, when he crawled forth from the tent, was the signal for a loud burst of laughter from Long Peter, who was making the fire, and this, more than anything else, convinced the boy that something was really wrong. He retreated into the tent and consulted a small pocket looking-glass, whereby he discovered that his countenance was as black as the ace of spades. "April Fool!" shouted the irrepressible Roly, with great glee, and dived head-first out of the tent to escape a flying shoe. "My dear brother, permit me to inform you that this is the First of April." This last explanatory speech was delivered with telling effect from a safe distance. [Illustration: THE CAMP OF THE MYSTERIOUS THIRTY-SIX] David was at first much vexed, but having washed his face, he joined at last in the laugh against himself. Taking the idea from the blackened faces of the Indian women, Roly had carefully gone over his sleeping brother's face with soot from the bottom of a kettle. The youngster confessed, however, that, owing to anxiety lest David should awaken first, his fun had cost him half his night's sleep. It brought upon him, too, some words of counsel from his father, who reminded him that practical joking often provoked serious ill-feeling, and it was only owing to David's good sense that it had not done so in the present instance.