It did not take the boys long to reach the woods, and they soon found a spot where hickory nuts were plentiful.  They had brought some bags along, and were soon hard at work gathering the nuts.

While thus occupied they heard a number of girls coming along.  At first they fancied the newcomers might be from the seminary, but soon saw that they were natives of the place.  They were five in number, and among them was Minnie Sanderson.

“Why, how do you do?” said Minnie, coming up with a smile on her face.  “How strange to meet out here!” And then she shook hands with each of the Rovers, and speedily introduced her friends, and the Rovers introduced Songbird.

Minnie was neatly attired in a brown dress, with a brown hat to match, and while she did not look anyway “stunning,” she made an attractive appearance.  Her friends, too, were pretty, and well dressed, and all were very jolly.

“It’s a nice bunch, all right,” murmured Tom to Sam.  “I like their open-hearted way of talking.”

“So do I,” answered the youngest Rover.

The girls joined the boys in gathering nuts, and so spent an enjoyable hour roaming through the woods.  Often the Rovers and Songbird would knock down the nuts with sticks and stones and leave the girls to gather what they wanted.

“We like to have a large quantity of nuts on hand for the winter,” said Minnie to Dick.  “Then, when there is a deep snow on the ground we can sit before the blazing fire and crack nuts and eat them.  You must come over some time this winter and help,” she added.

“Perhaps I will,” murmured Dick.  He had to admit to himself that Minnie was very cordial and that she was by no means bad looking.  He did not wonder why Flockley and Koswell were so anxious to call upon her.

Roaming through the woods caused Songbird to become poetic, and while they rested in the sunshine, and picked some of the nuts that Tom and Sam had cracked, he recited some verses composed on the spur of the moment: 

  “Hark to the silence all around! 
  The well-trained ear doth hear no sound. 
  The birds are silent in their nest,
  All tired Nature is at rest. 
  The brook in silence finds its way
  From shadows deep to perfect day. 
  The wind is dead, there is no breeze—­”

  “To make a fellow cough and sneeze!”

murmured Tom, and gave a loud ker-chew! that set all the girls to laughing.

“That isn’t right!” declared Songbird half angrily.  “There is no sneeze in this poem,”

“Oh, excuse me.  I only thought I’d help you out,” answered Tom soberly.  And then the would-be poet continued: 

  “The wind is dead, there is no breeze
  To stir the bushes or the trees. 
  Full well I know, as here I stand,
  That Solitude commands the land!”

“Good!  Fine!  Immense!  Great!” cried Sam enthusiastically.  “Hurrah for Solitude!”