supper that had been supervised by a trio of eager cooks, all as hungry
as boys could well be, and continue to exist. "All we know is that when
this boy, Roland Chase, left Sagamere, almost two years back, he was a
sickly, white-faced chap, and with only one decent trait about him,
which was his love for outdoors; though up to then it had been mostly a
_yearning_, because they wouldn't let him get away from the house much
on account of his delicate constitution. Well, we're looking for some
such chap; but up to now we haven't got on his track."

[1] "With Trapper Jim in the North Woods."

"But hold on, Bandy-legs," expostulated Steve, "you forget that we did
hear about a boy that answered that description, though nobody seemed to
know his name. He was sometimes seen in the company of a half-drunken
old guide named Shanks somewhere around Mount Tom district. And now
we've come up this way in the hope of crossing his trail. Not that I've
got much expectation myself that we'll be sure to find this same;
Roland, who turns out to be a sort of will-o'-the-wisp to us; but since
his old aunt was so kind as to finance this expedition, why we're bound
to do all we can to make it a blooming success, that's what."

"Well," commented Max, who seemed to be the most confident one of the
quartette, "remember, if we fail to make connections it'll be the first
time on record that we've really been stumped. I don't believe in
hard-luck stories. As a rule success comes only to those who deserve it.
And we've still got most of that two weeks' vacation ahead of us, to
hunt around for Roland Chase."

Somehow Max always seemed to say things calculated to make his chums
feel more satisfied. It is a mighty good thing to have a real optimist