“Better not go too far,” advised Tom. “Remember that we’ve got to walk back again, and it gets dark early at this season.” “Let’s eat grub here and then bear off to the left,” suggested Jack. They had brought some sandwiches with them, and also a coffee pot and tin cups. They found a sheltered spot, and made a fire, boiling the coffee which they drank as they munched their sandwiches. “This is something like!” murmured Bert, his mouth half full. “That’s what,” agreed George. “You wouldn’t know from looking around here that there was such a place as Elmwood Hall.” The meal over, they again took up the march, and they had not gone far before Tom, who was a little in advance, started a big white rabbit. He saw the bunny, and then almost lost sight of it again, so well did its white coat of fur blend with the snow. But in another instant Tom’s keen eye saw it turning at an angle. He raised his rifle. “You can’t hit it with that!” cried Jack. But Tom was a better shot than his chum gave him credit for being. As the gun cracked, the rabbit gave a convulsive leap and came down in a heap on the snow. “By Jove! You _did_ bag him!” cried Jack, admiringly. “Of course,” answered Tom coolly, as though he had intended doing that all along, whereas he well knew, as did his chums, that the shot was pure luck, for it takes a mighty good hunter to get a rabbit with a rifle bullet. However, the bunny was added to the game bag, and then, for some time, the boys had no further luck. A little later, when they were well on their way back, Jack saw a plump gray squirrel on a tree. Bert was near him, but on the wrong side, and Jack, taking his chum’s gun, brought down the animal, which further increased their luck that day. “Well, we’ve got all we want to eat for a while. What do you say we quit?” suggested Tom. “No use killing just for fun.” “That’s right,” agreed his chums. “We won’t fire at anything unless it’s a deer or a bear,” went on Bert, laughing. As they neared their cabin they were all startled by a movement in the bush ahead of them. It sounded as though some heavy body was forcing its way along. “There’s a deer--or bear!” whispered Jack, raising his rifle. “Don’t shoot at anything you can’t see,” was Tom’s good advice. And the next moment there stepped into view of the boys the figure of Professor Skeel. He was almost as startled on seeing the four chums as they were at beholding him. CHAPTER X AT CAMP NO. 2 Professor Skeel might well have shrunk back at the sight which confronted him, for Jack stood poised, with raised weapon, as though he had it pointed at the former instructor. But Professor Skeel did not shrink back. He gazed at the boys, though there was evidence of surprise on his face. “I--I beg your pardon,” said Jack, for he could not forget the time when the crabbed man had been in authority over him. “I--I--didn’t see you there,” Jack went on.