a dandy story—about four travelers who were murdered in some lonely mountains by brigands, and"
"You shut up!" cried Roger. "Don't you want a fellow to sleep to-night?"
"But I thought you wanted me to tell a story," went on Dave, innocently.
"I don't want to listen to such a story as that!"
"Nor do I!" added Phil. "Let's talk about schooldays, and the last game of football, or baseball, or something like that."
"If only the other fellows were here," murmured Dave. "Shadow Hamilton, and Buster Beggs, and Polly Vane, and Luke Watson, and"
"Luke could give us a tune on his banjo," put in the senator's son.
"Yes, and Shadow would tell funny stories, not ghost stories," added Phil.
"We'll have a story or two to tell, when we get back to Oak Hall," continued Dave. "I wish we could have had one of the deer stuffed for the museum."
"Too late now. But maybe we'll get another," answered Phil.
All of the boys were tired, yet it was nearly ten o'clock before any of them felt like turning in. As the night wore on. the place seemed to become more lonely.
