“I say, Merriwell!” he cried, “are you out for a little sport to-night?”

“That depends on what sort of sport it is.”

“’Sh!” said Little, mysteriously.  “Close the door, uncle.”

A fellow by the name of Silas Blossom, who was familiarly called “uncle,” obeyed.

Little looked at Rattleton and then stared hard at Jones, who had the face of a parson.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I think you are all right.  Even if you have scruples I don’t believe you will blow.”

“Very kind!” grunted Dismal.

“The rest of the gang is all right,” said Little.

“Then give us your scheme,” spluttered Harry, whose curiosity was thoroughly aroused.  “Don’t bush around the beat—­I mean beat around the bush.”

“What do you fellows say to a turkey chase?” asked Little.

“A turkey chase?”

“Yes.  Out around West Rock way.  There are plenty of old farmers who have good fat turkeys out that way.  It is a good cool night, and we can capture two turkeys without trouble.  Then we’ll take ’em in here and have a roast.  Are you wid us?”

“Those who are not wid us are agin’ us!” fiercely declared Bandy Robinson.

“And that is dead right, me b’hoys,” nodded Arthur Street, who was known at Yale as Easy Street, on account of his free-and-easy way.

Merriwell hesitated.  He was in for any kind of honest sport, but he did not quite fancy the idea of stealing turkeys.

“Why don’t we buy our turkeys at the markets?” he asked.

The other lads stared at him in astonishment.

“Buy them!” they shouted.  “Say, are you dafty, man?  Where would the fun come in?  You know better than to propose such a thing.”

“Stolen fruit is ever the sweetest,” quoth Uncle Blossom.  “It’s not many fellows we would take into such a scheme, but you were just the man we wanted, Merriwell.  If we bought a turkey we wouldn’t have any appetite for it.  Now, the run out into the country and back will give us an appetite.  One fellow will have to stay here and get the fire ready, while the rest of us chase turks.  Come on, man—­it’s what you need to start your blood circulating.”

Merriwell seemed to suddenly make up his mind.

“I am with you,” he said as he arose.  “Who stays and looks after the fire?  We don’t want anybody along that can’t run.”

“Well, I’m no sprinter,” confessed Dismal.  “I’d like to go along, but I’m afraid I’d peg out.  I’ll have things ready when you show up.  But what time will you be back?”

Frank looked at his watch and then made a mental calculation.

“It will be about eleven,” he said.

“All right.”

“Say, Jones,” said Street, “just go down to Billy’s and get a few bottles of beer.  We’ll need it to wash the turk down.”

“And cigars,” cried Blossom.  “Don’t forget cigars.  What would a turkey feast be without a smoke afterward?”