happened. As when Harry, suddenly poising in front of Chub, exclaimed:

“Fowl! One, two, three—”

“What?” exclaimed Chub, with a jump.

“Four, five, six—”

“Er—er—”

“Seven, eight, nine—”

“Bullfrog!”

“You’re ‘it’!” cried Harry. “A bullfrog isn’t a fowl.”

Chub strove to temporize.

“Did you say fowl? Are you sure?”

“Go ahead, Chub, she caught you,” said Roy “Be game!”

“That isn’t fair,” grumbled Chub. “Of course a bullfrog isn’t exactly a fowl, but everybody knows that frog legs taste just exactly like chicken, and so—”

“Get up, get up, you lazy duffer!” cried Dick.

Chub got up and fixed Dick with a malevolent scowl. Then he walked over to him and remarked conversationally:

“Fish! One, two, three, four, seven, ten!”

“Here! You didn’t count right!” objected Dick.