With the first sprinkle of snow, the boys of Hampton began to get out their guns—those of them who possessed any—and little was talked of but rabbit hunting and the merits and demerits of various hounds. The aeroplane experiment grounds were closed till spring, only a small detachment of soldiers being left behind to look after things, and see that no one molested the place. Old Captain Hudgins, as was his winter habit, had deserted his island, except for occasional visits, and would not go back to it till the early spring. In the meantime, he meant to pass the chilly months in a small-cottage lying a little outside Hampton to the east. Of course, it was right on the coast, for the captain could not bear to be out of sight or sound of the sea.
One Saturday Rob and his inseparable companions set out for the woods with their guns, determined to bring home enough rabbits for three separate stews. Their way led them up over Jones’s Hill, where Paul meant to try out his winged sled when opportunity offered, past a few scattered dwellings on the outskirts of the town, and then into a tangle of woods and brush interspersed with sandy clearings covered with dried, brown grass.
Separating, they started through the woods, and every now and then the report of a shotgun rang out sharply on the frosty air. It was evident that they were having good sport, or at least getting plenty of shots.
Hardly had they disappeared into the brush before another group of hunters, leading a big liver-and-white pointer on leash, emerged into the roadway from a clump of bushes, behind which they had ducked as the three boys came into view.
The trio that had so suddenly appeared from what was, apparently, a hiding place consisted of Freeman Hunt, Jack Curtiss, and Bill Bender. All carried guns, and four rabbits carried by Jack showed that they had had some success.
“I suppose those brats are going to scare everything within five miles now,” muttered Jack, as they watched the Boy Scouts vanish into the woods. “They’re a fine bunch of hunters. I’ll bet there isn’t one of them could hit a barn door if he were locked in.”
“That’s right,” muttered Freeman Hunt, in a surly tone. “Young muckers, I owe them a long score, and they’ll have to settle it before long.”