“Geology!” repeated Ralph.  “That’s my pet subject.  Some day, you know, I’m going to study mining engineering.”

“That so?  Well, come along with us for a ‘prelim,’” suggested Arthur, in the true scout spirit of friendliness.

Ralph sighed and shook his head.

“Wish I could!” he admitted.  “Haven’t time to spare, though.”

“Studying?” queried Tom.

“No, working” And Ralph stated briefly and frankly the nature of his work.

“Like it?” again inquired Tom, who was always interested in people and their occupations.

“I don’t mind the work itself,” said Ralph, “it’s not half bad, you know.  But selling vegetables in the village market, and haggling with stingy buyers over the price of cabbages and green peas, is what gets my goat!” He laughed ruefully.  “I guess I’ll have to be jogging on my homeward way,” he added.  “So long!  Come over and see me on the farm, if you’re ever along that way.  I’ll show you my traps and perhaps we can go out on a little hunt—­er—–­that is, if you-----”

“Thanks; we will,” said Tom.  “But we don’t hunt animals to kill; it’s against scout rules in our troop.”

“We hunt ’em with a camera,” Arthur explained.

“Oh, I see.  Well, so long.”

The three lads shook hands.

“So long!  Hope we’ll meet again soon.”

Ralph then took his leave of Denmead and Doctor Kane, and went on his way, with a new idea buzzing in his mind:  so they were going to make a survey of that locality!  He could invite them to investigate his land, and—–­what if his father’s hopes and beliefs should prove to be founded on bed-rock?  Bed-rock, rich in ore?  Could it be more than a dream?  If they should discover any iron, anything—–­they were nice fellows—–­he could trust them.  Very decent chaps to know, perhaps to have as friends.  And they didn’t approve of trapping or shooting!  Against scout rules, eh?  And was he—–­oh, well, it was fair play, and he needed whatever extra money he could earn.  Those eagles!  Yes, he must not lose any more time.  The eagles would have to be the prize of his marksmanship, even though he winged them against his will.

* * * * * * *

At the end of that week he told himself that he would have to get the birds that day, or give up the hunt for them, and devote his entire time to the gardens.  He resolved to spend the whole day in the neighborhood of Eagle Cliff, as he called it; for get them he would, then or never, before going back to the presence of his patient, pathetic, brave little mother.

Accordingly, about five o’clock in the morning, he led the faithful Keno from his stall, and rode slowly down the dusty road until he came to a point where the narrow bridlepath branched off the road and wound upward into the silent woods.  Following this path until it became indistinguishable on a thick carpet of moss and leaves and coarse fern, he reached the big boulder at last; there he left Keno safely tied and hidden in a clump of alders.  Then he went on, several rods down the trail, and took up his position directly across the stream from Eagle Cliff.