The enthusiasm of the boys was rapidly growing. With the Forecaster behind him, with Anton's rain-gauge, with the new sun-dial staring them in the face, with Bob's plan for the wireless plant, with a club-house of their own and the admitted leadership of Ross, the whole group was swinging into line. "Tell you what I'll do for my share, fellows," said another of the boys. "You know that printing-press of mine?" "You mean the one you printed the pirate flags on, Fred?" queried Ross, referring to the Treasure Island period when the boat was made. "Yes. Ever since Dad found that he had to use the shed I used to keep the press in, I haven't had much chance to get at it. I'll ship the press over here, if there'd be room for it in our club-house," the words were said with great pride. "We could print a little weekly paper. I wanted to do that last year, but Dad said that he didn't want me to print nothing but gossip, and there didn't seem anything else to write. If we really had some stuff worth reading, like weather news, I'm sure I could make it go. Enough, anyhow, to pay for paper and mailing." "You think we ought to issue a regular weather bulletin," said Ross. "That's a good notion, Fred." "I'll let you have some of my stories," said one. "Or Fatty's jokes," suggested another, dodging a nudge of the elbow from his neighbor. "A weather bulletin would be a good thing," the Forecaster said, approvingly. "What could the rest of us do?" asked an alert youngster. "I haven't a printing-press, or a wireless apparatus or anything else." "Nor have I," said two or three voices. The Forecaster looked quickly at Ross. This was a crucial point. It was Anton who answered. "You've got plenty of wind at your place, Lee, haven't you?" he asked. The lad laughed. "Pop says it's the windiest place in the county," he answered, "poked right up there on the top of that knoll." "You ought to be the official wind-measurer," the crippled lad declared. "There is a way to measure wind, isn't there, Mr. Levin?" "Certainly," the Forecaster answered, "it's a very necessary thing to do, too." "Pete's camera!" interjected the laconic Bob. "What's the good of that?" broke in its owner. "You can't snap-shot the wind, at least not that I've ever seen." "Clouds!" said Bob. "That's right," agreed Anton, "you could photograph the clouds, Pete. Suppose you took a snap-shot of the sky every day, at the same time, for a year, it would make a peach of a series." "The Bureau at Washington would be glad of a series like that," put in the Forecaster. "So far as that's concerned, Pete, I'd buy a daily print for my own use. I couldn't pay much, of course, but enough to meet the cost of materials." Pete brightened up. "I'll do that, quicker'n a wink," he said. "I've snapshotted about everything else around here, but I never thought of the sky." "You could tackle eclipses and halos and rainbows and lightning--all sorts of things," suggested Anton.