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They were, it may be said, a good lot of boys; healthy youngsters in their teens—the Shark was the youngest and physically the weakest; well intentioned but not wise beyond their years; fond of fun and activity and no prophets of possible consequences of their escapades. But, as the title of their club indicated, they were learning their lesson in the school of experience. The wisdom of a policy of “Safety First” was impressed upon them, though as yet they were not too skilled in the application of the rule.

While Tom Orkney was settling himself by the table, Step Jones again raised his voice in lamentation.

“I tell you, fellows, this is the meanest, logiest, slowest, stupidest time of all the year. There’s nothing to do. The snow spoils the skating, and more than half the time the snow-shoeing and skiing are no good. Sleighing’s a bore, and coasting’s no use except for kids. And where does that leave you? Ugh!”

Nobody answered Step’s question. There was a long silence, broken by that youth himself.