"Wouldn't they be surprised back at camp," he thought, "if I should bring in a cat? It would make a fine mascot for us too."

He bent over the bushes where the cat had disappeared and called again; no response came, however. He bent the twigs aside and stepped in, looking carefully all about him as he went forward. Suddenly he uttered a cry of surprise and started back. He thought he was choking, and springing back into the narrow pathway he turned and ran for the tent as fast as his legs would carry him.

CHAPTER XIII-THE OUTCAST

George's one idea was to run away, but the remarkable part of the adventure was that it seemed to be impossible to shake off that from which he was trying to escape.

A moment later he arrived at camp and spying his three friends seated around the fire he made his way towards them. As soon as he reached the spot where they were he threw himself upon the ground and commenced to moan and groan violently.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear," he cried. "What have I done? What have I done?"

"Why, Pop!" exclaimed Grant in alarm. "What's the matter with-"

He broke off suddenly in the midst of the sentence and looked at George in horror. All sympathy for the sufferer quickly left him.

"Get out of here!" he cried, but not waiting for George to leave he departed quickly himself. He was accompanied by Fred and John who seemed to be stricken with some strange malady, a mixture of anguish and laughter.

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" cried George as he saw his three friends leaving him.

"Do anything you want," called Fred. "Drown yourself if you like, but don't come near me."

"Where'd you get it, Pop?" shouted John gleefully. "You'd better go soak in the lake for a couple of days."

"Get away from that fire," cried Grant. "Our supper is being cooked there and we can't come back until you leave."

"I'm not stopping you," replied George. "Come back and tell me what to do."

"I told you," exclaimed Fred. "Go and drown yourself."

"Where'd you get it, Pop?" repeated John and immediately went off into gales of laughter.

"You caught the trout all right," laughed Fred. "You caught something else. Something a good deal bigger than that fish too."

"Isn't it awful!" exclaimed John holding on to his nose. "I remember my younger brother once ran across a skunk like this and he had to live in the barn for two days."

"To think that Pop should be the one, too," said Fred delightedly. "It seems almost too good to be true."

"It's true all right enough," said Grant grimly. "Go up close to him if you don't believe it."

"What shall I do?" called George to his three unsympathetic companions.

He was standing near the fire, anguish depicted on his face. He was in a sorry plight, for no matter where he went he could not escape the almost overpowering odor that clung to him.

"Take all your clothes off and throw them in the lake," said Grant.

"Then go take a swim yourself.

"After that we might let you come back," added Fred.

"But I can't throw away perfectly good clothes," protested George.

"They're not 'good' any more," laughed John. "Throw them away."

"Burn them if you like," suggested Fred. "Do anything you want with them, only get rid of that smell. You can't come near us until you do."

"Is that so?" demanded George and he took a few steps forward. "Who says I can't come near you?"

"Don't do it, Pop, don't do it," begged Grant. "If you only knew how you smelled."

"I do know; don't worry about that. It follows me wherever I go."

"Please don't come near us," exclaimed Grant as George still moved towards them.

"I thought I'd come over and hug Fred," said George. "He's so pleased about it all that it seems only fair that I should share the smell with, him."

"You stay away!" cried Fred in alarm. "Don't you touch me. Don't come within forty rods of any of us."

"Oh, Fred," grinned George mischievously, "don't run away from me. I just want to show you how fond of you I am."

As he spoke George walked slowly towards the group of three boys who stood and watched him anxiously. They knew that George would stop at nothing once he was started and his offer to share the smell of the skunk with Fred gave them ample cause for alarm. Fred was the one most worried and he really had good reason for his alarm, for he knew that George would like nothing better than to rub up against him and inflict the awful odor on him too.

"You keep away from me, Pop!" cried Fred uneasily.

"Don't you like me?" grinned George.

"Oh, yes, I love you," exclaimed Fred, knowing well that whatever he might say it would be exactly the wrong thing.

"Then let me hug you," urged George, advancing steadily nearer.

"I'll hit you over the head with this rock."

"Why, Fred, how unkind of you; I really am surprised."

"You'll be worse than that if you don't keep away," warned Fred, but he backed away a few feet as he saw George steadily approaching.

"Let's get out of here," whispered John to Grant and unnoticed by George they withdrew and made their way back to the fire.

"Pop certainly has Fred worried now all right," laughed John.

"I should say so," agreed Grant. "The joke was on Pop at first but it certainly is on Fred now. Just look at them."

George still advanced slowly towards the spot where Fred was standing.

He held his arms out, entreating Fred to come to him, but Fred very evidently had no intention of doing any such thing. He was slowly retreating, threatening George meanwhile with all manner of punishment if he was not left alone.

"Come to me, Fred," begged George, a wide smile on his face. He was content to suffer the discomfort of the terrible odor himself as long as he could worry his friend so effectively.