"All I c-c-can say then, Bandy-legs, they b-b-builded wiser than they
knew when they j-j-just let it g-g-go at regrets. A f-f-fine George
Washington you'd m-m-make, I'm thinking."

The boy answering to the peculiar name of "Bandy-legs" laughed
good-naturedly as he began to swing the sharp-edged hatchet, and cut
down some of the required brush which, having camped many times before,
he knew was suitable for their requirements.

Besides this sturdy young chap with the lower limbs that were a little
bowed, and which fact had doubtless suggested such a nickname to his
schoolmates, there were two others busily engaged in gathering the
material to be used in affording them a rude, but effective shelter
during the coming night.

The one whom they called Max seemed to be looked upon as a leader, for
it is absolutely necessary that in every pack of boys some one takes the
initiative. His whole name was Max Hastings, and on numberless occasions
he had shown an aptitude for "doing things" when the occasion arose,
that gained him the respect of his chums. For a complete record of these
achievements the reader is referred to earlier volumes of this series,
where between the covers will be found much interesting and instructive
reading.

The third boy of the trio in sight was Toby Jucklin. While Toby was
certainly agile enough when it came to acrobatic stunts, and such things
as boys are fond of indulging in, his vocal cords often loved to play
sad pranks with his manner of speech. As the reader has already
discovered, Toby was fain to stutter in the most agonizing fashion. When
one of these fits came upon him he would get red in the face, and show