"
"The Fairview Gun Club," corrected Whopper. "Nothing like giving
a title that looks like something, as the French Count said when
he called himself a duke."
"Where is your club going?"
"Oh, just up in the mountains, back of Lake Cameron," answered
Snap.
"Is the hunting good there?"
"Pretty fair---so old Jed Sanborn says."
"Well, I wish you luck. You boys are good enough shots to bring
down almost anything," said the shooting gallery keeper.
"Come on up to our orchard and talk things over," said Snap, as
he led the way from the gallery, and in a moment more the boys
were on the Street and making their way to Mr. Dodge's apple orchard,
a quarter of a mile from the center of the town. The other boys
knew as well as Snap that there were some fine fall pippins in
the orchard, and, like all growing lads, each loved a good apple.
The town of Fairview was not a large one. There was one main
street and a side street running to the little depot, at which
eight trains stopped daily. There were fifteen shops and stores,
a hotel and three churches.
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