“Where’s Hank Brady?” called Frank aloud.

“Here!” said that worthy, stepping forward from the motor-car, and holding out his hand eagerly to the friend who had been so instrumental in assisting him to get his slipping feet on steady ground.

“Hello, Hank!  Here’s your brother Teddy!”

In this abrupt fashion did he bring the two face to face.  Hank turned white, and stared hard at the bronzed young cowboy for a moment; then he caught hold of him, and the long separated; brothers were in each other’s arms.

“Sure, the old folks will be happy this night, Ted, to see you again!  I never hoped they’d find you when I asked Mr. Frank to keep on the lookout,” was what Hank was saying, as he turned a moist eye in the direction of the boy who had done so much to bring happiness to his home.

Bluff and Nellie were seen talking earnestly close by.  Probably he was telling her about the surprise she gave him in that last letter when revealing what she had done with his wonderful hunting-knife.

Now that they were home again, with vacation nearing an end, the boys would not have so much time to indulge in their pastimes on the lake, so that they were keen to make hay while the sun shone.  Consequently, they fairly haunted the lake, and the canoes were in use every day from that time on.  Nor were they alone in this love of the open, for many an evening each canoe had its complement of fair ones, whose sweet voices blended with those of the four outdoor chums as they paddled in the moonlight over the rippling water.

College was ahead of them, but as they expected to keep together still, the Outdoor Club was not to be disbanded by any means.  Often in future days they expected to once more sit around a campfire in company, enjoying the delights of an outing, and recalling many of the wonderful experiences that came their way in days that were past.

And there, written down in Frank’s diary, or logbook, were the accounts of their first camp above the loggers’ settlement, at the head of the lake; the one on Wildcat Island; then the third, among the Sunset Mountains, when they solved the mystery of Oak Ridge’s ghost; and also their wonderful cruise down a Florida river and along the border of the great Mexican Gulf; while this journey to the cattle ranch of Mr. Mabie, in the wilderness of the Northwest, would complete the list.

How many times, as they read of these exploits, and surveyed the splendid pictures Will had secured during their various campaigns, would the scenes of the happy past come before their mental vision!  They could hardly expect to equal these glorious days in the times to come, but no one who knew their love for the open would dare predict that the Outdoor Club would cease to exist with the going to college of its four members.

Perchance they may yet have other camps in strange places, and perhaps it may be our pleasant duty to chronicle the happenings of the four chums when again they erect their tents, or it may be, paddle their canoes on other waters.