"I believe I could kill anything but an ox with this," observed
Reade, eyeing his bludgeon.

"Look out!" called Danny Grin, as if in alarm.

In a twinkling Tom dropped his club, dashed at a young oak tree
and began to climb, thinking that the dog had suddenly appeared.

"Stop that nonsense, Dan---and everyone of you!" called Dick sharply.
"Let no one knowingly give any false alarms, or we might disregard
a real warning when it comes."

Tom sheepishly dropped to the ground, picked up his cudgel, then
gazed at Dalzell with a look that had "daggers" in it.

"I'll owe you one for that, Danny Grin," Reade remarked, "and
I'm always careful about paying my debts."

"Now that we have our clubs," suggested Dick, "let's get back
to the road and discuss what we're going to do."

"Surely," hinted Dave, "we can find some other road and keep on
our way."

"Undoubtedly," Greg nodded. "But the mad dog might cross through
the woods and be found waiting for us on that other road. Or,
he may now be headed for the second lake, or even be there now."

"Let's vote on what we're going to do," urged Hazelton. "Dick,
what do you say?"