This brought no comfort to Larry, however, whose previous virtues would
only render this lapse the more conspicuous. A suggestion of Joe's
turned the scale.

"Dat woodchuck," he said, "he's got one hole on de hill by dere. He's
big feller. We dron heem out."

"Come on, let's," cried Mop. "It will be awful fun to drown the beggar
out."

"Guess we can't do much this morning, anyway," said Ben, philosophically
making the best of a bad job. "Let's go, Larry." And much against his
will, but seeing no way out of the dilemma, Larry agreed.

They explored the woodchuck hole, failing to drown out that cunning
subterranean architect who apparently had provided lines of retreat for
just such emergencies as confronted him now. Wearied of the woodchuck,
they ranged the bush seeking and finding the nests of bluejays and of
woodpeckers, and in a gravel pit those of the sand martens. Joe led them
to the haunts of the woodcock, but that shy bird they failed to glimpse.
Long before the noon hour they felt the need of sustenance and found
that Larry's lunch divided among the four went but a small way in
satisfying their pangs of hunger. The other three, carefree and
unconcerned for what the future might hold, roamed the woods during the
afternoon, but to Larry what in other circumstances would have been a
day of unalloyed joy, brought him only a present misery and a dread for
the future. The question of school for the afternoon was only mentioned
to be dismissed. They were too dirty and muddy to venture into the
presence of the master. Consequently the obvious course was to wait
until four o'clock when joining the other children they might slip home