"Pretty Sweet!" ejaculated Jess, beginning to laugh. "And he is in his forest green hunting suit. _I_ call it his 'Robin Ridinghood' suit." "It just matches him, all right," said Lance. "He's verdant green and so is the suit. And look how he is carrying that gun, will you?" The gun was in its case, but the boy in question was carrying the shotgun in a most awkward manner. Without a doubt he was half afraid of it. "And I bet he hasn't had a charge in it all the time he's been out. Who did he go with?" asked Chet. "Some of the East Siders. They cater to him a lot, and you know," said Lance, with disgust, "tight as Purt is with money, if you flatter him you can pull his leg." "Dear me!" murmured Laura, "it is not in your province to use such slang, Lance. Leave that to Chet and Bobby." "Hey, Pretty!" Chet shouted to the very dandified lad, as he crossed the street toward them. "What luck, old top?" Although when they had first seen him, Prettyman Sweet was undoubtedly footsore, he began to strut now and pride "fairly exuded from his countenance," as Jess whispered to her chum. "Did you get any cottontails?" demanded Lance. "Oh, a few--a few, muh boy," declared Pretty Sweet airily. Then they saw that he had a game bag slung over his shoulder in true sportsman style. "I did not suppose you would go out to shoot the poor, innocent little rabbits, Mr. Sweet," said Laura, with sober face but dancing eyes. "They have never done you any harm." "I bet a real bad rabbit would make Purt run," muttered Bobby. "Oh, Miss Belding!" said the school dandy. "You know I'm awf'ly keen on sport--awf'ly keen, doncher know. I just _have_ to get a day now and then in the woods, when game is in season." "He's as keen on it as the two Irishmen were, who went hunting for the first time," broke in Bobby. "When they sighted a bird sitting on a bush Meehan took very careful aim and prepared to fire. Said his friend, grabbing him by the arm: "'Don't fire, Meehan! Shure an' yez haven't loaded yer gun.' "'That's as it may be, me lad,' retorted Meehan, 'but fire I must. The bur-rd won't wait!'" Prettyman Sweet was used to being laughed at, yet he flushed at the gibe. "Never mind," he said. "I bring home the game, just the same." "You 'bring home the bacon,' in other words," said Chet, approaching him. "Let's see the bunnies?" Nothing loath, the overdressed boy opened the bag and displayed his plunder. He brought two big hares out of the bag by their ears and held them up with pride. "Bet they were trapped," said Bobby in an undertone. "They were not trapped!" cried Purt Sweet sharply. "See! That is where one was shot! And there is the other--see?" "Jinks!" said Lance. "Both through the head. _You_ never did it, Purt?" "I did so!" cried the huntsman angrily. "I shot them both." Chet was looking them over closely. He shook his head. "They have been shot all right," he said. "And you shot them over there on Cavern Island?"