“Steve, I’ll go you there,” he hastened to say.  “It can do no harm, and may be a fine thing.  Are you sure you know the direction fairly well?”

“Yes, because I was sharp enough to make a note of it last night, Max.  You see, at the time the wind was coming in a lazy sort of way right out of the west.  Later on it swung around to the northwest, which makes it so sharp this morning.”

“Good for you, Steve,” the other told him.  “Then we’ll head direct into the west, and cover the ground for, say a mile, coming back over another route.  We can call out now and then, so if any one heard us they might answer.  But you’d better hurry and get your duds on, because, unless I’m mistaken, Bandy-legs is meaning to sing out that breakfast’s ready.  And you know the last to the feast is penalized when the supply runs short.”

“No danger of that happening when Bandy-legs has anything to do with the cooking,” chuckled Steve, confidently; which remark proved how well those four chums knew one another’s weak points.

Of course at breakfast most of the conversation had to do with Roland and his valiant attempt to “make good.”  He told his new friends many things that interested them exceedingly, and which were connected with his struggle.  Their questions also brought them quite a fund of information concerning the habits of foxes, and how those who aim to raise the valuable animals for the great London fur market, go about the business.

“As for me,” said Bandy-legs, who had been doing considerable thinking while all this talk went on, “I mean to try and hunt up a few of those bouncer frogs Roland here says inhabit his marsh.  Of course I know that at this time of year they’re deep down in the mud, and meaning to lie there till spring thaws ’em out; but it may be I can scare up just a mess.  I’m awfully fond of frogs’ legs, you may remember, boys.”

They all wished him luck.  Steve advised him to borrow a spade from the owner of the woods cabin, for he might have to dig deep.  Bandy-legs, however, only grinned and showed no signs of a change of mind; for once he set his heart on a thing and he was apt to keep everlastingly at it until the realization, that it was quite hopeless, would compel him to throw up the sponge, which Bandy-legs always did with a bad grace.

So breakfast was finally finished, and the boys separated.  True to his promise the would-be frog hunter set out valiantly on his errand, urged by his love for a dainty dish.  Toby had agreed to assist Roland look after his fox brood, for there were many things he did not yet understand concerning their care, and which he earnestly wished to know.

This arrangement quite suited Steve and Max, for it left them free to saunter forth.  They announced their intention of taking a little look around.  Steve, of course, picked up his gun before starting, saying: 

“You never know when you may want a shooting iron up in the woods.  There might be an old wildcat prowling around these diggings, which would take a dislike to the shape of my face, so he’d attack us.  And I’m homely enough as it is right now, without inviting a cat to make the map of Ireland over my phiz.”