CHAPTER VIII
THE MAD BULL
"News from the North Pole!" shouted Dick Hazelton, bounding into the playground, two mornings later.
"What does that mean?" asked Bob.
"Frost."
"When—where?"
"On the pumpkins! You fellows who live in town don't get up early enough to see what's going on these crisp, bright days. Get ready for some new fun, fellows."
"What's doing?" asked Frank.
"Nutting."
"Hurrah!" cheered Sammy.
"Walnuts down in the flats, and hickory nuts over in the North Woods," said Dick. "See here, Frank, can't we get the fellows to go Saturday?"
"Of course we can," replied Frank.
"My crowd will go," put in Jed Burr.
"Thank you!" laughed Frank, slyly.
"Say, what will I do?" asked Tom. "I'm too fat to climb trees."
"You can hold the bag," chuckled Sammy.
Bob looked at Jed, and then at Tom. Then he walked away to another part of the playground.
"Hi, Bob!" sang out Sammy, running after him. "Where are you bound for?"
"Nowhere."
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