The next day had been set apart by Frank and his cousin for a squirrel-hunt; but the first thing they heard, when they awoke in the morning, was the pattering of the rain against their bedroom window, and the hunt was, to use Archie’s expression, “up stump.”  Although they had been expecting exciting times, bringing down the squirrels (for the woods were fairly alive with them), and were a good deal disappointed at being obliged to postpone their intended excursion, they were not the ones to complain, they knew there would be many pleasant days before the winter set in, and the hunt was put off without ceremony.

They were at no loss to know how to pass the day.  There was plenty of work to be done:  their traps must be overhauled and put in working order; the Speedwell was waiting to be dismasted and put cover; their fishing-tackle must be oiled and packed away, their pets taken care of and provided with winter-quarters; and there was a host of other things to attend to; and they were in no fear that the time would hang heavily on their hands.

As soon as the boys were dressed, they went into the shop and set manfully to work.  Archie kindled a fire in the stove—­for it was a cold, unpleasant day—­and Frank pulled from under the work-bench a large chest, filled with spring-traps, “dead-falls,” broken reels, scraps of lead, and numberless other things he had collected, and began to pull over the contents.  The traps were taken out and subjected to a thorough rubbing and greasing.

While thus engaged, their attention was attracted by the peculiar “cawing” of a crow that flew over the shop, and, a moment afterward, a whole chorus of the harsh notes sounded in the direction of the woods.  The boys hurried to the door, and saw a multitude of crows pouring from every part of the woods, cawing with all their might, and directing their course toward a large pine-tree, which stood in the meadow back of the orchard, and which was already covered with them.

“What’s the matter?” inquired Archie.

“They act as if they had discovered an owl,” answered Frank.

“Have they?  Let’s go and shoot him.”

“That will, probably, be a harder job than you anticipate,” said Frank.  “However, we will try.”

After shutting the dogs up in the shop, the boys ran into the house, drew on their rubber coats, and started through the orchard, loading their guns as they went—­putting an extra charge of powder and a couple of buck-shot into each barrel.

In a few moments they reached the fence that ran between the orchard and the meadow, and Archie inquired,

“What shall we do now?”

“We can’t go much further,” said Frank, drawing a flap of his coat over his gun, to protect it from the rain.  “There isn’t a stump, or even a tuft of grass, in the meadow large enough to cover us.  Besides, if we undertake to climb over the fence, every crow will be out of sight in a moment; then good-by, owl.”