Tom told, and the two newcomers expressed their satisfaction in unmeasured terms. “Let’s start right away!” exclaimed Jack. “Oh, there’s lots to do yet,” spoke Tom. “If you fellows will get off your store-clothes, you can help crate this boat.” “Sure we will!” came from Bert. “We left our grips at your house. We’ll go back and change into our old duds.” “Good idea,” declared Tom. “Mother’s got your rooms all ready for you.” “We know. She took us up to ’em first shot,” said Jack. “Great little mother you’ve got, boy!” “Glad you like her,” laughed Tom. A little later the three chums were back at the boathouse making the crate. There was hammering, pounding, splitting and sawing--that is, when there was a cessation in the talk, which was not very often, as the lads had much to say to each other. Then, too, each one had a different idea of how the work ought to be done, and they argued freely, though good-naturedly. “Say, we’ll never get anything done if we keep this up,” said Tom after a while. “That’s right. Talk less and work more,” advised Bert. “Here comes Dick Jones. He’ll help,” said Tom, and he explained that his village chum was going to camp with them. Dick was introduced to the two Elmwood Hall boys, and they liked him at once, as he did them. After that the work went on better, for it was no small task to crate the motorboat and an additional pair of hands were much needed. “And what did you say the name of the lake is, where we’re going camping?” asked Jack, during a pause in the hammering and sawing. “Lake Woonset,” explained Tom. “It’s an Indian name. Didn’t I mention it before?” “You did, but I guess I forgot it. Lake Woonset, near Wilden, in New York state. Say, Bert--!” “By Jove, that’s so. It just occurred to me too,” interrupted Bert. “What did?” asked Tom. “What’s up? What’s the matter with Lake Woonset?” “Nothing, but isn’t it near Crystal Lake?” asked Jack, a curious look on his face. “Yes,” answered Tom. “But Crystal Lake is a small one. Why, what has that to do with our going camping?” “Nothing much, only we’ve got some curious news for you. Who do you think is going to camp at Crystal Lake?” “I can’t imagine, unless it’s Sam Heller and that sneaking crony of his, Nick Johnson.” “Worse than that,” declared Bert. “It’s our old enemy, Professor Skeel!” CHAPTER IV OFF TO CAMP “What’s that?” cried Tom. “Are you joking? Professor Skeel going to camp near us?” “I’m not joking a bit,” declared Bert. “You can ask Jack.” “It’s true enough,” put in Tom’s roommate at college. “We heard it the other day--just before we came on here--from your old friend, Bruce Bennington. I don’t know why we didn’t think to tell you before, except that I didn’t recall that Crystal Lake, and the one where we’re going camping, were so near together.”