"And may we wait here?" asked Laura Bentley, full of eagerness.

"Certainly, young ladies."

"Oh, that's just fine of you, Mr. Driggs," cried Belle Meade.

Smoke soon began to pour out of the short funnel of the working engine on the boatyard scow. It was a clumsy-looking craft—-a mere floating platform, with engine, propeller, tiller and a derrick arrangement, but it had done a lot of good work at and about the boatyard.

"You want to get aboard the scow now, boys," called Mr. Driggs. "If we do anything real out yonder I'll have need of some willing muscle."

"Can't some of the girls go, too?" called a feminine voice. "We're all dreadfully anxious, you know."

Hiram pursed up his mouth, as though reluctant. Then he proposed, grudgingly:

"A committee of two girls might go, if they're sure they'll keep out of the way when we're working. Just two! Which of the young ladies ought we to take, Mr. Prescott?"

"Why, I believe Miss Bentley and Miss Meade will be as satisfactory a committee as can be chosen," Dick smiled.

Some of the girls frowned their disappointment at being left out, but others clapped their hands. Laura and Belle stepped on the scow's platform.

"I wouldn't try to go, if I were you, Dan," urged. Dick, as young Dalzell stepped forward to board the scow.

"I'm all right," Dan insisted.

"Sure you're all right?" questioned Hiram Driggs, eyeing Danny Grin's wobbly figure.

"Of course I am," Dan protested, though he spoke rather weakly.

"Then there's a more important job for you," declared Mr. Driggs. "Stay here on the float with the rest of the young ladies, and explain to them just what you see us doing out yonder."

There was the sound of finality about the boat builder's voice, kindly as it was.

"Cast off," ordered Driggs, taking the tiller. "Tune up that engine and give us some headway."

Clara Marshall was thoughtful enough to run back and get a chair, which she brought down to the float and placed behind Dalzell.

"Sit down," she urged.

"Thank you," said Dan gratefully, "but I didn't need a chair."

Nevertheless the high school girls persuaded him to be seated.

"I—-I wasn't drowned, you know," Dan protested as he sat down.

"No; but you got a little water into your lungs," responded one of the girls. "I heard Mr. Driggs tell Dick Prescott that, as nearly as they could guess, you opened your mouth a trifle just before Dick and Dave reached you and freed you from that awful trap. Mr. Driggs said that if you had been under water two minutes longer there would have been a different story to tell."

"I wonder how long I was under water?" mused Dan.

"Long enough to drown, Danny Grin," replied Clara Marshall gravely.

Meanwhile the scow was making slow headway out into the river and slightly up stream.

"Dick, don't you think this canoeing is going to prove too dangerous a sport for you boys?" asked Laura, regarding him with anxious eyes.

"Not when we get so that we know how to behave ourselves in a canoe, Laura," young Prescott answered.

"Yet, no matter how skilful you become, some unexpected accident may happen at any moment," she urged.

"You wouldn't have us be mollycoddles, would you?" asked Dick in surprise.

"Certainly not," replied Laura with emphasis.

"Yet you would advise us to avoid everything that may have some touch of danger in it."

"I wouldn't advise that, either," Laura contended with sweet seriousness. "But——-"

"You'd like to see us play football some day, wouldn't you?"

"I certainly hope you'll make the high school eleven."

"Football is undoubtedly more dangerous than canoeing," Dick claimed.

"It seems too bad that boys' best sports should be so dangerous, doesn't it?" questioned young Miss Bentley.

"I can't agree with you," Dick answered quietly. "It takes danger, and the ability to meet it, to form a boy's character into a man's."

"Then you believe in being foolhardy, as a matter of training?" asked Laura, with a swift flash of her eyes.

"By no means," Prescott rejoined. "Foolhardy means just what the word implies, and only a fool will be foolhardy. If we had been trying to upset the canoe, as a matter of sport, that would have been the work of young fools."

It was not difficult to locate the spot where the canoe had gone down. The river's current was not swift, and the paddles now floated not very far below the spot where the cherished craft of Dick & Co. had gone down.

"Do you want the services of some expert divers, Mr. Driggs?" asked Dave, turning from a brief chat with Belle Meade.

"Not you boys," retorted the boat builder. "You youngsters have been fooling enough with the river bottom for one day."

"Then how do you expect to get hold of the canoe, sir?" asked Tom Reade.

"We'll grapple with tackle," replied Driggs, going toward an equipment box that stood on the forward end of the scow. "We'll use the same kind of tackle that we've sometimes dragged the bottom with when looking for drowned people."

Laura Bentley slivered slightly at his words. Driggs' keen eyes noted the fact, and thereafter he was careful not to mention drowned people in her hearing.

The tackle was soon rigged. Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton, who possessed the keenest interest in things mechanical, aided the boat builder under his direction.

Back and forth over the spot the scow moved, while the grapples were frequently shifted and recast.

"Stop the engine," called Driggs. "We've hooked into something!"

Laura turned somewhat pale for a moment; Belle, too, looked uneasy. The same thought had crossed both girls' minds. What if the tackle had caught the body of some drowned man?

"We'll shift about here a bit," Driggs proposed, nodding to the engineer to stand by ready to stop or start the engine on quick signal.

Before long the grappling hook of another line was caught;

"The two lines are about twelve feet apart," Driggs announced. "My idea is that we've caught onto two cross braces of the canoe. If so we'll have it up in a jiffy."

Both lines were now made fast to the derrick, in such a way that there would be an even haul on both lines. Belting was now connected between the engine and a windlass.

"Haul away, very slowly," Driggs ordered.

Up came the lines, an inch at a time. Belle and Laura could not resist the temptation to go to the edge of the scow and peer over.

"I see something coming up," cried Belle at last.

"It's the canoe," said Tom Reade, trying to speak carelessly, though there was a ring of exultation in his voice.

Nearer and nearer to the surface of the water came the canoe.

"Now, watch for my hand signal all the time," called Driggs. "I don't want to get the middle part of the canoe more than an inch above the surface."

When the point of the canoe's prow rose above the surface of the water a cheer went up from the scow that carried the news instantly back to the landing float.

Danny Grin stood up, waving his hat and cheering hoarsely, while the girls who surrounded him waved handkerchiefs and parasols.

Then the gunwale appeared just above water along the whole length.

"It will be a hard job to bail her out now," Dave declared.

"Not so hard that it will worry you any," Driggs smiled.

He dragged a pump over, allowing its flexible pipe to rest down into the water in the canoe.

"Now, some of you youngsters get hold of the pump handles," Driggs ordered.

Five high school boys got hold with a will. Gradually, as the water was emptied out of her the canoe rose higher and higher in the water.

There was no cheering, now, from the boys on the scow. They were using all their breath working the pump, while Driggs carefully directed the bottom of the flexible tubing.

"There!" declared Driggs at last. "Barring a little moisture, your canoe is as dry as ever it was, boys. I can't see a sign of a leak anywhere, either. But don't make a practice of tipping it over every day, for I can't afford to leave my work to help you out. There's your canoe, and she's all right."

Dick got hold of the painter at the bow, while Driggs released the grappling tackle.

What a cheer went up from the scow, and what a busy scene there was on the float as the young women jumped up and down in their glee over the good fortune of Dick & Co.

"Now, we'll cruise down and get the paddles," Driggs proposed.

"As soon as we pick up a couple of them, Dick and I can take the canoe and get the rest," Dave suggested.

"You cannot, while the young ladies are with us," Hiram Driggs contradicted. "Do you want to scare them to death by having another upset?"

Laura shot a grateful glance at kindly Hiram Driggs. The scow moved forward, cruising among the paddles until all of them had been recovered.

"Now, Mr. Driggs, won't you stop a moment?" asked young Prescott. "It will be a bit humiliating to be towed into dock. Wait, and let us get into the canoe. We'd rather take it ashore under our own power."

Laura hoped Hiram Driggs would veto the idea, but he didn't.

The canoe was brought alongside, and five boys stepped carefully into it, seating themselves.

"Room for one young lady in here, if we can find a fair way of drawing lots between them," suggested Dick playfully.

"They won't step into the canoe, just now, if I can prevent them," Driggs declared flatly. "You boys want just a few minutes' more practice at your new game before you risk the lives of these girls."

"You're right, I'm afraid, Mr. Driggs," Dick Prescott admitted with a smile. "But, before long, we hope to take out as many of the high school girls as care to step into this fine old war canoe."

"I hope you won't forget that," Belle Meade flashed at him smilingly.

"We won't," Dave promised her. "And you and Laura shall have the first invitation."

"I shall be ready," Laura replied, "just as soon as you boys feel that you can take proper care of us in the canoe."

"You'll have to do your own share of taking care," Tom Reade responded. "About all a passenger has to learn in a canoe is to take a seat right in the middle of the canoe, and to keep to that place without moving about."

Dick & Co., minus Danny Grin, now paddled off, reaching the float some moments before the scow got in.

"Young ladies," said Dick, as he stepped to the float, "I don't know how many of you will care about going out in our canoe, but we wish to invite all who would like it to try a trip within the next few days. Four boys and two girls can go out at a time, and in case of mishap that would leave two good swimmers to look after each girl. We shall be glad if you will permit us to invite you in couples."

Despite the accident of the morning the invitation was greeted with enthusiasm.



CHAPTER IX

DICK TREMBLES AT HIS NERVE

Hiram Driggs refused to accept any money for his trouble in raising the canoe.

"I won't charge you anything, unless upsetting your craft becomes a troublesome habit," the boat builder declared. "Remember, I'm a big winner on our birch bark trade."

Within the next four days all of the girls invited had been able to take a trip up the river and back.

By this time Dick & Co. had fully acquired the mastery of their canoe. They had had no more upsets, for "Big Chief Prescott," of this new Gridley tribe of young Indians, had succeeded in putting through some rules governing their conduct when the chums were out in their canoe. One of these rules was that no one should change his position in the craft except the steersman at the stern. Others would not look about at a hail unless informed by the steersman that they might do so.

Not by any means did Dick do all the steering of the craft. Each of his chums had a frequent turn at it, and at the other positions in the canoe, until all were expert at any part of the work.

"But there is one big drawback about having this canoe," Greg remarked one day.

"What's that?" asked Dave.

"There are no canoes to race with."

"There are up at Lake Pleasant," Dick replied.

"But we can't take the canoe up there," Tom Reade objected. "It's twenty-four miles from Gridley."

"Couldn't we walk there and carry the canoe on our shoulders?" suggested Dave.

While they were discussing this, the canoe lay on the float., whence they were soon to take it into the boathouse.

"We can try it now," suggested Dick.

Getting a good hold, Dick & Co. raised the war canoe to their several shoulders. They found they could accomplish the feat, though it wasn't an easy one.

"We'll have to give up that idea," Tom remarked rather mournfully. "Without a doubt we could carry the canoe to Lake Pleasant, if we had time enough. But I don't believe we could make five miles a day with it. So to get the canoe up to Lake Pleasant on our shoulders, and then back again would take over two weeks."

Dick was unusually thoughtful as the boys strolled from Driggs' yard up to Main Street. Lake Pleasant was a fine place to visit in summer. He knew that, for he had been there on one occasion.

On one side of the lake were two hotels, each with roomy recreation grounds, with piers and plenty of boats. On this same side there were four or five boarding houses for people of more moderate means.

Boating was the one great pastime at Lake Pleasant. Indeed, a canoe club had been started there by young men of means, and the boathouse stood at the water's edge on the Hotel Pleasant grounds.

Then, too, there may have been another reason for Dick's desire to go to Lake Pleasant. The following week Dr. and Mrs. Bentley were going to take charge of a party of Gridley high school girls, at Lake Pleasant, and Laura and Belle Meade would be of the number.

"We'd cut a fine dash at Lake Pleasant," Dave Darrin laughed. "Which hotel would we honor with our patronage? Terms, from fourteen to twenty-five dollars a week. We've about enough money to stay at one of the hotels for about two hours, or at a boarding house for about nine hours. When shall we start—-and how shall we get there with our canoe?"

"We have about fifty dollars in our treasury, from the birch bark business," Dick mused aloud, "but that won't help us any, will it?"

"Why, how much would it cost to have the canoe taken up there on a wagon Danny Grin asked.

"Not less than fifteen dollars each way," Dick replied.

"We'll give it up," said Tom. "There's nothing in the Lake Pleasant idea for us."

"I hadn't any idea we could do anything else but give it up," Dave observed, though he spoke rather gloomily.

Dick was still thinking hard, though he could think of no plan that would enable them to make a trip to Lake Pleasant and remain there for some days.

It was a Saturday afternoon. It had been a hot day, yet out on the water, busy with their sport, and acquiring a deep coating of sunburn, the boys had not noticed the heat especially. Now they mopped their faces as they strolled almost listlessly along the street.

"I want to go to Lake Pleasant," grumbled Danny Grin.

"Going to-night, or to-morrow morning?" teased Greg.

"If I had an automobile I'd start after supper," Dalzell informed them.

"But not having a car you'll wait till you're grown up and have begun to earn money of your own," laughed Harry Hazelton.

"What do you say, Dick?" asked Dan Dalzell anxiously.

"I say that I'm going to put in a few days or a fortnight at Lake Pleasant if I can possibly find the way," Dick retorted, with a sudden energy that was quite out of keeping with the heat of the afternoon.

"Hurray!" from Danny Grin.

"That's what I call the right talk," added Darrin.

"How will the rest of us get along with the canoe while you're gone?" questioned Tom Reade.

"You don't suppose I'd go to Lake Pleasant without the rest of the crowd?" Dick retorted rather scornfully.

"Then you're going to take us all with you, and the canoe, too?" Tom demanded, betraying more interest.

"If I can find the way to do it, or if any of you fellows can," was young Prescott's answer.

That started another eager volley of talk. Yet soon all of them save Dick looked quite hopeless.

The railroad ran only within eight miles of the lake. From the railway station the rest of the journey was usually made by automobile stages, while baggage went up on automobile trucks. Charges were high on this automobile line up into the hills. To send the canoe by rail, and then transfer it to an automobile truck would cost more than to transport it direct from Gridley to the lake by wagon.

"We can talk about it all we want," sighed Tom, "but I don't see the telephone poles on the golden road to Lake Pleasant."

"We've got to find the way if we can," Dick retorted firmly. "Let's all set about it at once."

"When do we start?" teased Tom.

"Monday morning early," laughed Dave. "And this is late Saturday afternoon."

Dan Dalzell was not in his usually jovial spirits. His heart was as much set on going as was Dick's, but Dan now felt that the pleasure jaunt was simply impossible.

"Let's meet on Main Street after supper," Dick proposed. "Perhaps by that time we'll have found an idea or two."

"If we can find a pocketbook or two lying in the Main Street gutter, that will be something more practical than finding ideas," Tom replied with a doleful shake of his head. "But perhaps we'll really find the pocketbooks. Such things are told of in story books, anyway, you know."

"If we find any pocketbooks," smiled Dick, "our first concern after that will be to find the owners of them. So that stunt wouldn't do us much good, even if it happened."

Then the boys separated and went to their respective homes for supper. But Dick Prescott did not eat as much as usual. He was too preoccupied. He knew to a penny the amount that was in the treasury of their little canoe club, for Mr. Prescott was holding the money subject to his son's call. Certainly the money in the treasury wouldn't bring about a vacation at Lake Pleasant.

Just as soon as the meal was over Dick went out, strolling back to Main Street.

"'Lo, Dick!"

Prescott turned to recognize and nod to a barefooted boy, rather frayed as to attire. Mart Heckler had been two classes below him when Prescott had attended Central Grammar School. Now Mart was waiting for the fall to enter the last grade at Central, which was also to be his last year at school. Mart's parents were poor, and this lad, in another year, must join the army of toilers.

"You must be having a lot of fun this vacation, Dick," remarked Mart rather wistfully. "Lot of fun in that war canoe, isn't there?"

"Yes; there is, Mart. If we see you down at the float one of these days we'll ask you out for a little ride."

"Will you?" asked Mart, his eyes snapping. "Fine! Now that you fellows have your canoe I don't suppose you'll be trying to go away anywhere this summer. Too much fun at home, eh?"

"I don't know about that," said young Prescott wistfully. "Just now we're planning to try to take the canoe up to Lake Pleasant for a while."

"Bully place, the lake," said Mart approvingly. "I'm going up there Monday. Going to be gone for a couple of days."

"How are you going to get there?" Dick asked with interest.

"You know my Uncle Billy, don't you?" asked Mart. "He's the teamster, you know. He's going to Lake Pleasant to get a load of furniture that the installment folks are taking back from a new boarding house up there. He said I could go up with him. We'll carry our food, and sleep over Monday night in the wagon."

Dick halted suddenly, trembling with eagerness. He began to feel that he had scented a way of getting the canoe up to the lake in the hills!



CHAPTER X

PUTTING UP A BIG SCHEME

"Your uncle will be at his regular stand to-night, won't he?" queried Dick Prescott.

"I expect so," Mart agreed. "What's the matter? Do you want to go along with us? I guess Uncle Billy would be willing."

At this moment Dick heard a group of younger boys laughing as they strolled along the street.

Following their glances, Dick saw in the street what is commonly known in small towns as the "hoss wagon"—-a vehicle built for the purpose of removing dead horses.

"There goes Fred Ripley's bargain!" chuckled one of the boys.

At that moment Fred Ripley himself turned the corner into Main Street.

"And there's Rip himself," laughed another boy. "Hey, Rip! How's horse flesh?"

But Fred, flushing angrily, hurried along. "What's up?" asked young Prescott as the group of boys came along.

"Haven't you heard about Fred's pony?" asked one of the crowd.

"I know he bought a pony," Dick answered.

"Yes; but Squire Ripley had a veterinary go down to the Ripley stable this afternoon, and look the pony over," volunteered the ready informant. "Vet said that the pony would be worth a dollar or two for his hide, but wouldn't be worth anything alive. So Squire Ripley ordered the pony shot, and that cart is taking the poor beast away."

"Is your canoe going to be a winner?" asked another boy.

"We expect so," Dick nodded.

"Great joke on Rip, isn't it?" grinned another.

"I can't say that his misfortune makes me especially happy," Prescott answered gravely.

"Well, I'm glad he was 'stung' on his pony," continued the other boy. "Rip is no good!"

"There is an old saying to the effect that, if we got our just deserts we'd all of us be more or less unhappy," smiled Dick.

"Rip won't be so chesty with us smaller boys," predicted another grammar school boy. "If he tries it on, all we've got to do is to ask him, 'How's horse flesh, Rip?'"

In spite of himself Dick could not help laughing at the thought of the mortification of the lawyer's son when he should be teased on so tender a point. Then Dick asked:

"Mart, is your uncle at his stand now?"

"I reckon he is," nodded Heckler.

"Let's go over there and see him."

"You're going to try to take the ride with us, then?" asked Mart.

"I think so."

"Bully!" glowed Mart, who, like most of the younger boys of Gridley, was a great admirer of the leader of Dick & Co.

Billy Heckler, a man of thirty, was, indeed, to be found at his stand.

"Dick wants to go up to Lake Pleasant with us on Monday," Mart began, but Dick quickly added:

"I understand, Mr. Heckler, that you're going up to the lake without a load."

"Yes," nodded the truckman.

"Then it struck me that perhaps I could arrange with you to take up our canoe and some bedding, and also let the fellows ride on the wagon."

"How many of you are there?" inquired Billy Heckler.

"The usual six," Dick smiled. "If you can do it, how much would you charge us?"

"Fifteen dollars," replied the driver, after a few moments' thought.

Dick's face showed his disappointment at the answer.

"I'm afraid that puts us out of it, then," he said quietly. "I had hoped that, as you are going up without a load, anyway, you might be willing to take our outfit up for a few dollars. It would be that much to the good for you, wouldn't it?"

"Hardly," Billy replied. "Carrying a load takes more out of a team than an empty wagon does. You can see that, can't you?"

"Ye-es," Dick nodded thoughtfully. "But, you see, we're only boys, and we can't talk money quite like men yet."

"Some men can't do anything with money except talk about it," Billy Heckler grinned. "Well, I'd like to oblige you boys. What's your offer, then?"

"We don't feel that we could pay more than five dollars," Dick answered promptly.

"No money in that," replied Billy Heckler, picking up a piece of wood and whittling.

"No; I'm afraid there isn't," Dick admitted. "I guess our crowd will have to content itself with staying at home and using the canoe on the river."

"The river is a good place," Heckler argued. "Why aren't you all content to stay at home and use your canoe on the river?"

"Because," smiled young Prescott, "I suppose it's human nature to want to get away somewhere in the summer. Then we understand that there are other crew canoes on Lake Pleasant. Of course, now we've spent a few days in the canoe, we believe we're real canoe racers."

"If you could call it ten dollars," Heckler proposed after a few minutes, "that might——-"

"The crowd hasn't money enough," Dick replied. "You see, we've got to get the canoe back, too. Then we'll have to use money to feed ourselves up there. I don't see how we can go if we have to spend more than five dollars to get there."

Billy Heckler started to shake his head, but Mart, getting behind Dick, made vigorous signals.

"We-ell, I suppose I can do it," agreed Heckler at last. "There's nothing in the job, but I can remember that I used to be a boy myself. We'll call it a deal, then, shall we?"

"I'll have to see the other fellows first," Prescott answered. "I'll hustle, though. The fellows will all have to get permission at home, too, you know."

"Let me know any time before six to-morrow night," proposed Billy. "It must be understood, though, that if I get a paying freight order to haul to the lake between now and starting time, then my deal with you must be off."

"Of course," Dick agreed. "And thank you, Mr. Heckler. Now, I'll hustle away and see the other fellows."

Dick sped promptly away. When he reached Main Street he found the other fellows there. Dick gleefully detailed the semi-arrangement that he had made.

"Great!" cried Dave.

"Grand, if we can all square matters at home," Tom Reade nodded. "Well, fellows, you all know what we've got to do now. We'll meet again at this same place. All do your prettiest coaxing at home. It spoils the whole thing if anyone of us gets held up from the trip. Did you hear about Rip's pony, Dick?"

"Yes."

"Served him ri—-" began Greg Holmes, but stopped suddenly.

For Fred Ripley, turning the corner, saw Dick & Co., and carefully walked around them to avoid having to pass through the little crowd.

"Speaking of angels——-!" said Dave Darrin dryly.

"Don't tease him, Darry," urged Dick in a very low voice.

But Fred heard all their remarks. His fists clenched as he walked on with heightened color.

"It's just meat to them to see me so badly sold on the pony, and to know that my father ordered the animal shot and carted away!" muttered young Ripley fiercely. "Of course the whole town knows of it by this time. Prescott's muckers and a few others will be in high glee over my misfortune, but, anyway, I'll have the sympathy of all the decent people in Gridley!"

Fred's ears must have burned that night, however, for the majority of the Gridley boys were laughing over his poor trade in horse flesh.



CHAPTER XI

ALL READY TO RACE, BUT——-

On the landing stage at the Hotel Pleasant a group of girls stood on the following Tuesday morning.

"Wouldn't Dick and Dave and the rest of their crowd enjoy this lake if they were here with their canoe?" asked Laura Bentley.

"Yes," agreed Belle Meade. "And very likely they'd win some more laurels for Gridley High School, too. Preston High School has a six-paddle canoe here now, and Trentville High School will send a canoe crew here in a few days. Oh, how I wish the boys could manage to get here with their war canoe!"

"It seems too bad, doesn't it," remarked Clara Marshall, "that some of the nicest boys in our high school are so poor that they can't do the ordinary things they would like to do?"

"Some of the boys in Dick & Co. won't be poor when they've been out of school ten years," Laura predicted, with a glowing face.

"I don't believe any of them will be poor by that time," agreed Clara. "But it must hurt them a good deal, just now, not to have more money."

"I wish they could be here now," sighed Laura.

"You want to see Gridley High School win more laurels in sports and athletics?" asked another girl.

"Yes," assented Miss Bentley, "and I'd like to see the boys here, anyway, whether they won a canoe race or not."

"There's a crew canoe putting off from the other side now!" announced Belle Meade.

"That's probably Preston High School," said Laura.

"Have the Preston boys a war canoe, too?" asked one of the girls, shading her eyes with her hand, and staring hard at the canoe across the lake, some three quarters of a mile away.

"Someone at the hotel said the Preston boys have a cedar and canvas canoe," Laura replied.

"That's a birch-bark canoe over yonder," declared the girl who was studying the distant craft so intently. "I can tell by the way the sun shines on the wet places along the sides of the canoe."

The other girls were now looking eagerly. "Wait a moment," begged Clara, and, turning, sped lightly to the boathouse near by. She returned with a telescope.

"Hurry!" begged Laura Bentley as Clara started to focus the telescope.

"You take it," proposed Clara generously, passing the glass to Laura.

Laura soon had the telescope focused.

"Hurrah, girls!" she cried. "That's the war canoe from Gridley, and Dick & Co. are in it."

She passed the glass to Belle Meade, who took an eager peep through it.

"Hurrah! Gridley High School! Hurrah!" chorused the other girls.

Their voices must have traveled across the water, for Prescott, at the stern of the war canoe, suddenly gave a couple of strokes with his wet, flashing paddle, that swung the prow around, driving the canoe straight in the direction of the landing float.

"Hurrah! Gridley High School! Hurrah!" called the girls again, giving the high school yell of the girls of that institution of learning.

In answer a series of whoops came over the water.

"They're coming at racing speed!" cried Laura.

"Which shows how devoted the boys of our high school are to the young ladies," laughed Belle.

Within a few minutes the canoe was quite close, and coming on swiftly. From the young paddlers went up the vocal volley:

"T-E-R-R-O-R-S-! Wa-ar! Fam-ine! Pesti-i-lence! That's us! That's us! G-R-I-D-L-E-Y——-H.S.! Rah! rah! rah! Gri-dley!"

"Hurrah! Gridley! Hurrah!" answered the girls.

"Whoop! Wow! wow! Whoo-oo-oo-oop! Indians! Cut-throats! Lunch-robbers! Bad, bad, bad! Speed Club! Glee Club! Canoe Club—-Gridley H.S.!" volleyed back Dick & Co.

It was the first time that they had let out their canoe yell in public. They performed it lustily, with zest and pride.

"Splendid!" cried some of the girls, clapping their hands. Though it was not quite plain whether they referred to the new yell, or to the skilful manner in which the boys now brought their craft in. At a single "Ugh!" from Prescott they ceased paddling. Dick, with two or three turns of his own paddle, brought the canoe in gently against the float. Now Dave and Dick held the canoe to the float with their paddles while the other young Indians, one at a time, stepped out. Those who had landed now bent over, holding the gunwale gently while Dave, first, and then Dick, stepped to the float.

"Up with it, braves! Out with it!" cried Dick. The canoe, grasped by twelve hands, was drawn up on to the float, where its wet hull lay glistening in the bright July sunlight.

"You never told us you were coming up here!" cried Laura Bentley, half reproachfully.

"If you're bored at seeing us," proposed Dick, smilingly, "we'll launch our bark and speed away again."

"Of course we're not bored," protested Belle Meade. "But why couldn't you tell us you were coming?"

"We weren't sure of it until late Sunday afternoon," Dave assured her. "Some of us had to do some coaxing at home before we got permission."

"How did you get that big canoe here?" Clara Marshall asked.

"Don't you see the gasoline engine and the folded white wings inside the canoe?" asked Tom Reade gravely. "We can use it either as a canoe or as an airship."

Three or four of the girls, Clara at their head, stepped forward to look for engine and "wings," then stepped back, laughing.

"You're such a fibber, Tom Reade!" declared Susie Sharp.

"A falsifier?" demanded Tom indignantly. "Nothing like it, Miss Susie! The worst you can say of me is that I have the imagination of an inventor."

"Tweedledum and tweedledee!" laughed Clara.

"It does seem good to see you boys up here," Belle went on with enthusiasm. "How long are you going to stay?"

"In other words, how soon are you going to be rid of us?" asked Danny Grin.

"Are you speaking for yourself, Mr. Dalzell?" Belle returned tartly. "I inquired more particularly about the others."

Dan quite enjoyed the laugh on himself, though he replied quickly:

"The others have to go home when I do. They had to promise that they would do so."

"We have been camping at Lake Pleasant for two days," Dick explained. "We came up herewith our canoe and camping outfit on Billy Heckler's wagon. We brought along Harry's bull-dog to watch the camp. As to how long we'll stay, that depends."

"Depends upon what?" Clara asked.

"On how long our funds hold out," Prescott explained, with a frank smile. "You see, all our Wall Street investments have turned out badly."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that young men of your tender age should have been drawn into the snares of Wall Street," retorted Clara dryly.

"So, having had some disappointments in high finance," Prescott went on, "we can stay only as long as our dog fund lasts."

"Dog fund?" asked Susie Sharp, looking bewildered.

"Dick is talking about the money we made in bark," Greg Holmes explained readily.

"Then you really expect to be here a fortnight?" Laura asked.

"Yes; if we don't develop too healthy appetites and eat up our funds before the fortnight is over," Dick assented.

"Oh, you mustn't do that," urged Belle.

"Mustn't do what?" Dave asked.

"Don't eat up your funds too quickly," Belle explained.

"Even if you do," suggested Susie Sharp, teasingly, "you won't need to hurry home. We girls know where there are several fine fields of farm truck that can be robbed late at night. Potatoes, corn, watermelons——-"

"It's really very nice of you girls to offer to rob the farmers' fields to find provender for us," returned Greg. "But I am afraid that we boys have been too honestly brought up to allow ourselves to become receivers of stolen——-"

"Greg Holmes!" Susie Sharp interrupted, her face turning very red.

"No; it's nice of you, of course," Greg went on tantalizingly, "but we'd rather have a short vacation, that we can tell the whole truth about when we go home."

"You boys may starve, if you like," retorted Susie, with a toss of her head. "I'm through with trying to help you out."

"You know, Susie," Danny Grin went on maliciously, "farmers' fields are often guarded by dogs. Just think how you would feel, trying to climb a tree on a dark night, with a bulldog's teeth just two inches from the heels of your shoes."

"Who are up here, in the way of canoe folks?" Dick asked Laura.

She told him about the Preston High School boys and the coming crew from Trentville High School.

"We ought to be able to get up some good races," remarked Dave.

"You'll disgrace Gridley High School, though, unless you drop Danny Grin and Greg Holmes," retorted Susie.

"Now, don't be too hard on us, Miss Sharp," tantalized Greg, "just because we tried to dissuade you from committing a crime with the otherwise laudable intention of feeding us when our money runs out."

"If you will only leave Greg and Dan out," proposed Clara, "you may call on any two of us girls that you want to take their places in the canoe on race days."

"Whew!" muttered Dick suddenly.

"What's wrong?" demanded Belle.

"Don't mind Prescott," urged Tom Reade. "Just as we left shore on the other side someone threw a stone into the lake and raised a succession of ripples, which rocked the canoe a bit. So—-well, you've all heard of sea sickness, haven't you?"

"We might feel worse than sea sick," Dick went on, "if we had raced, and then suddenly remembered that we have no authorization from Gridley High School to represent the school in sporting events."

Tom's face fell instantly. Dave Darrin, too, looked suddenly very serious.

"What's the matter?" asked Laura anxiously.

"Why, you see," Dick went on, "although we are sure enough Gridley High School boys, we haven't gone through the simple little formality of getting our canoe club recognized by the High School Athletic Council."

"You can race just the same, can't you?" asked Susie Sharp, looking much concerned.

"We may race all we wish, and no one will stop us——-"

"Then it's all right," said Susie, with an air of conviction.

"But we simply cannot race in the name of Gridley High School."

"Oh, but that's too bad!" cried Clara.

"You can write to someone in the Council and secure the necessary authorization, can't you?" asked Laura.

"Yes, we can write; but it's another matter to get action by the Council in time," Dick responded. "You see, it's the vacation season. There are seven members of the Athletic Council and I believe that all seven of the members are at present away from Gridley. Likely as not they are in seven different states, and the secretary may not even know where most of them are."

Eight Gridley High School girls suddenly looked anxious. They had been rejoicing in the prospect of "rooting" for a victorious Gridley crew here at Lake Pleasant. Now the whole thing seemed to have fallen flat.

"The thing to do—-though it doesn't look very promising—-is to——-" began Tom Reade, then came to dead stop.

"How provoking you can be, when you want to, Tom," pouted Clara. "Why don't you go on?"

"Because I found myself stuck fast in a new quagmire of thought," Reade confessed humbly. "What I was about to say is that the first thing to do is to write to Mr. William Howgate, secretary of the Gridley High School Athletic Council of the Alumni Association. But that was where the thought came in and stabbed me with a question mark. Mr. Howgate is out of town. Does anyone here know his address?"

Fourteen Gridley faces looked blank until Dick at last remarked:

"I suppose a letter sent to his address in Gridley would reach him. It would be forwarded."

"Thank goodness for one quick-witted boy in Gridley High School!" uttered Belle. "Of course a letter would be forwarded."

"And there isn't any time to be lost, either," urged Susie. "Girls, we'll take Dick right up to the hotel now, and sit and watch him while he writes and mails that letter."

"Right!" came a prompt chorus.

"Come along, boys," added Susie, as the girls started away with their willing captive.

"Let Dave go," spoke up Tom. "Some of us must stay behind and stand by our canoe. It's valuable—-to us!"

So Darrin was shoved forward. He and Prescott had walked a few yards when the latter stopped in sudden dismay.

"What's the matter?" asked Clara.

"We are dressed all right for our own camp," Dick replied, glancing down at his flannel shirt, old trousers and well-worn pair of canvas "sneakers" on his feet. "We didn't feel out of place in the canoe, either. But the hotel is a fashionable place, and we can't go up in this sort of rig, to discredit you girls. For that matter, just think how smart you all look yourselves, dressed in the daintiest of summer frocks. While we look like—-well, I won't say the word."

"If our Gridley boys are ashamed to be seen with us just because they're in rough camp attire," said Laura gently, "then we haven't as much reason to be proud of them as we thought we had."

"I'm answered," Dick admitted humbly. "Lead on, then. We'll take comfort from our company, and hold our heads as high as we can."

On to the wide hotel porch, where many well-dressed people sat, the girls conducted the two delegates from the canoe club. However, none of the guests on the porch paid any particular attention to Dick and Dave. Both campers and canoers were common enough at this summer resort.

It was Clara who led the way into a parlor, in one corner of which there was a writing desk. Dick seated himself at the desk, and after a moment's thought began to write, then promptly became absorbed in his task. Dave and the girls seated themselves at a little distance, chatting in low tones.

There were other guests of the Hotel Pleasant in the parlor, while still others passed in or out from time to time.

One young man, quite fashionably dressed, stepped into the parlor, looked about him, then started as his glance fell on Dick and Dave.

It was Fred Ripley.

"Hello!" muttered Ripley in a voice just loud enough to carry, as he stood looking at Dick and Dave. "I thought I saw, out in the grounds, a sign that read: 'No tramps, beggars or peddlers allowed on these grounds or in the hotel.'"

Dick's fingers trembled so that he dropped the pen, though he tried to conceal his feelings.

Dave Darrin's fists clenched tightly, though he had the good sense to realize that to start a fight in the parlor was out of the question.

Ripley's remark had been loud enough to attract the attention of nearly every person in the big room toward Dick and Dave.



CHAPTER XII

SUSIE DISCOMFITS A BOOR

Laura Bentley bit her lips. She flushed, then started to rise, but Susie Sharp gently pushed her back into her seat, then crossed to an electric button in the frame of a window.

A bell-boy promptly answered Susie's ring.

"Will you kindly ask the manager to come here at once?" asked Susie.

As it happened, the manager was no further away than the corridor. He came in quickly, bowing.

"Mr. Wright," asked Susie coldly, nodding toward Fred Ripley, who stood leaning over a chair, smiling insolently, "will you kindly have this objectionable person removed? He is annoying our guests."

In a twinkling Fred's insolent smile vanished. Susie's request had not been voiced in a loud tone, but it had been heard by perhaps twenty-five strangers in the parlor.

Ripley's face paled, briefly, then became fiery red. He stood erect, stammered inarticulately, then looked as though he were furtively seeking some hiding place.

"I think, Miss Sharp," replied the hotel manager, with another bow, "that the young man is on the point of leaving, and that the services of a porter will not be needed."

Fred tried to look unconcerned; he fished mentally for something smart to say. For once, however, his self assurance had utterly deserted him.

"Oh—-well!" he muttered, then turned and left the parlor in the midst of a deep silence that completed his utter humiliation.

"Mr. Wright," said Laura, "I want you to know Mr. Darrin, one of our most popular high school boys in Gridley. Dick, can't you come over here a moment? Mr. Wright, Mr. Prescott. Our two friends, Mr. Wright, have brought up a racing canoe. They are camping across the lake. We hope they will arrange for races with the Preston and Trentville High School Canoe Clubs."

"I am most glad to meet your friends," said the manager, shaking hands with Dick and Dave. "Two of the Preston High School young men are stopping here in the house, and the others are over at the Lakeview House. I hope, Mr. Prescott, that we shall be able to have some fine high school races. It will increase the gayety of the season here."

"Thank you," said Dick. "But I am afraid, sir, that we have been worse than neglectful—-stupid.

"How so?" asked Mr. Wright, his manner quickly putting both rather shabby-looking boys wholly at their ease.

"Why, sir," Prescott explained, "we had never thought, until this morning, to secure authorization from the Athletic Council of our school to represent Gridley High School. I am now engaged in writing a letter asking for that authorization."

"Let me take a hand in this," begged Mr. Wright. "Is your letter at all of a private nature?"

"Not in the least, sir."

"May I see it?"

"Certainly, Mr. Wright."

The hotel manager followed Dick to the writing desk, where he glanced over the letter.

"I have only one suggestion to make," said the manager. "Why not ask the secretary, Mr. Howgate, to send his answer by telegraph to this hotel, collect?"

"That would be all right," agreed Dick frankly, "if his answer isn't too long, or if he doesn't have to send more than one telegram. We are not exactly overburdened with funds, Mr. Wright."

"That doesn't cut any figure at all," replied the hotel manager in a voice so low that none but Prescott heard him. "Any telegrams sent here for you will be paid for by the hotel. There will be no expense to you, Mr. Prescott."

"I'm afraid I don't understand why you should do this, Mr. Wright," said Dick, looking at the other attentively.

"Purely a matter of business, my boy," the hotel manager beamed down at him. "Such racing as I hope to have here on Lake Pleasant constitutes a summer season attraction. Arrange a schedule of races, and you may be sure that both hotels will advertise the fact. It will be enough to draw a lot of young people here, and this hotel thrives by the number of guests that it entertains. So will you do me the favor of asking your Mr. Howgate to telegraph his answer—-collect—-addressing it here?"

That began to look like something that Prescott could understand. He called Dave over to him and told his chum what was being discussed.

"Fine!" glowed Darrin. "Thank you, Mr. Wright."

So Dick made the suggested addition to the letter. After he addressed an envelope and had sealed it the manager took the letter away to mail. Then he returned to say, with a tactfulness that won the hearts of the eight Gridley High School girls:

"Mr. Prescott, you and your friends will oblige me if you will make this hotel your headquarters when you are on this side of the lake. We shall always be delighted to see you here."

Thanking the manager for his courtesy, Dick and Dave accompanied Laura to the porch; where they were introduced to some of the other guests. Then the two boys and the girls started down to the lakeside once more.

"Mr. Wright was very kind," murmured Dick gratefully.

"He never fails in courtesy toward anyone," replied Laura. "You boys will come over every day, won't you? We must have a picnic or two."

"And you must all visit our camp." Dick urged. "It isn't much of a place, but the welcome will be of the real Gridley kind. If you dare take the risk, we'll even offer you a camp meal."

"The farmers' gardens are in danger, after all, then," laughed Susie. "If you are going to deplete your larders to entertain us, we girls will surely rob the farmers to make up for what we eat."

Susie's face had grown so grave that Prescott could not help regarding her quizzically.

"I mean just what to say about robbing the farmers, don't I, girls?" Susie asked.

"Yes," agreed Laura Bentley promptly. She had no idea what was passing in her friend's head, but she knew Susie well enough to feel sure that the latter was planning nothing very wicked.

"Can't we take you out, two at a time?" proposed Dick, as the young people neared the float.

"Now?" inquired Laura.

"Yes; since 'now' is always the best time for doing things," Prescott replied.

In no time at all the plan had been agreed to. Clara and Susie went out for the first ride in the canoe, Tom Reade taking command, while Dick and Dave remained on the float.

Two at a time the girls were taken out on the water. This consumed nearly two hours of time altogether, but it was thoroughly enjoyed by every member of the party.

But at last it came close, indeed, to the luncheon hour.

"Now, when are you coming over to that picnic in our camp?" Dick asked in an outburst of hospitality.

"At what time of the day?" Laura inquired.

"If your mother and Mrs. Meade will come along as chaperons," Dick answered, "night would be the best time."

"Why at night?"

"Because, then, you wouldn't be able to see the shabby aspect of our camp so plainly."

"It would be very jolly to go over and have a picnic meal by the campfire," Belle agreed. "Yet, in that case, we would want to reach your place by half-past four or so in the afternoon."

"Why?"

"So that we girls may have the fun of helping prepare a famous feast," Miss Meade went on. "Boys, if we come, we shall pass luncheon by and bring keen appetites for that evening feast. What is the principal item on the bill of fare of your camp?"

"Canned goods," replied Tom Reade.

"Don't you believe him," Dick interjected quickly. "Lake trout, bass and perch. This lake is well stocked, and we have already found one splendid fishing hole. We got up at five this morning and caught so many fish in half an hour that we threw some of them back into the water because we had no ice."

"Will your mothers come, if we have it in the evening?" asked Dick looking at Laura and Belle.

"Surely," nodded Laura quickly.

"And we'll greatly enjoy it," Dick went on, "if Dr. Bentley will also come. Is your father here, Miss Meade?"

"I'm sorry to say that he isn't," Belle answered. "A real picnic, in real woods, beside real water, would appeal to him strongly."

"But we haven't fixed upon the date," cried Susie impatiently.

"How would to-morrow night do?" Dick suggested.

"Famously," Laura replied. "Now, boys, you catch the fish to-morrow afternoon, and don't bother so much about the other things to eat. We won't have any canned stuff in our famous feast. We girls will bring all the garden stuff."

"And will steal it from the farmers, at that," added Susie teasingly.

"Yes, you will!" mocked Danny Grin good-humoredly.

"I give you our word that we'll steal everything that we bring in the garden line," Susie declared vigorously.

"Then you'll arrange it with the farmer in advance," Greg laughed.

"I give you our word that we won't do that, either," laughed Laura, coming to her friend's support, though she had no idea what was passing in Susie's busy little head.

"There goes the luncheon bell!" cried Dick reproachfully. "We're keeping you girls away from your meal. Come on, fellows. Into the canoe with you."

"But you'll be back here to-morrow morning?" pressed Miss Bentley.

"Yes; at what time?"

"Ten o'clock."

"You'll find us here punctually."

Dick & Co. paddled back to their camp feeling that they were having a most jolly time, with all the real fun yet to come.

Dick did not think it worth while to go over to the hotel again that day, to see if a telegram had come. He was certain that the letter would not find Mr. Howgate earlier than the next day, in any event.

But at ten o'clock the next morning Dick & Co., having put the best possible aspect on their attire, paddled gently in alongside the float of the Hotel Pleasant.

Even before they had landed, Fred Ripley, who was stopping with his father and mother at the Lakeview House, alighted from an automobile runabout in the woods some two hundred yards from the lakeside camp of Dick & Co.

"Those muckers are away," Fred told himself, as he watched the war canoe go in at the hotel float. "Now, if I have half as much ingenuity as I sometimes think I have, I believe I can cut short their stay here by rendering that cheap crowd homeless—-and foodless!"



CHAPTER XIII

THE RIPLEY HEIR TRIES COAXING

Fred studied the now distant canoe, then glanced carefully about the camp.

He knew that any sign of his presence, observed by Dick & Co., would be sure to result in the swift return of the canoe, with its load of six indignant boys.

Nor did young Ripley dare to risk discovery as the perpetrator of the outrage he was now planning. He feared his father's certain wrath.

"There are screens of bushes behind which I can operate," Ripley decided. "I am glad of the bushes, for, if I use care, not a living soul can see me. Now, for some swift work."

It did not take Ripley long to discover where the boys' food supply was stored.

"These fellows act like boobs!" muttered Fred in disgust. "Here they go away and leave everything exposed. If they didn't have an enemy in the world, even then some tramp could come along and clean out the camp. Humph! Two tramps, if they wanted to work for a little while, could carry away all the food there is here. What a lot of poor, penniless muckers Prescott and his friends are!"

Again Fred studied the lay of the land, then drew off his coat and flung it aside.

"Now, to work!" he said to himself gleefully.

First of all, he got the food supplies all together. Most of this stuff was in the form of canned goods. Ripley gathered it up in one big pile.

Then he stepped over to the tent, from which, at several points and angles he looked carefully over to the hotel landing float on the other side of Lake Pleasant.

"They can't see, from the hotel, whether the tent is down or up," Fred determined. "So here goes!"

Opening the largest blade of his pocketknife, Fred cut one of the guy-ropes. He passed around the tent, cutting each one in turn, until the canvas shelter fell over in a white mass.

"Won't they be sore, though?" laughed Fred maliciously, as he started to carry off the camp supplies.

Gr-r-r-r-r! Gr-r-r-r!

Just as Fred was straightening up to start off with his load for a bush-screen near the lake front, Ripley heard that ominous growl. There was also the sound of something moving through the bushes.

As Fred turned his face blanched.

"Harry Hazelton's bull-dog!" he quivered, now utterly frightened as he caught sight of the gleaming teeth in that ugly muzzle. "I didn't know that they had brought that beast with them. It's the lake for mine! If I can only get into the water I can swim faster than the dog!"

All this flashed through his mind in an Instant. Young Ripley started in full flight.

Close behind him, bounding savagely, came the bull-dog, Towser!

Trip! Fred's foot caught in a root. Crying out in craven fright, Fred Ripley plunged to the ground.

There was no time to rise. Towser, growling angrily, was upon him with a bound.

Gr-r-r-r-r!

Fred, with a shriek, felt the dog's teeth in the back of his shirt.

"Get out, you beast!" begged young Ripley in a faint voice.

Gr-r-r-r! was all the answer. Plainly the dog liked the taste of that shirt, for he held to it tight.

"Get away—-please do!" faltered Fred in a broken voice. "Get away. Don't bite. Nice doggie! Nice, nice doggie! Please let go!"

Gr-r-r-r-r!

But Towser didn't attempt to bite as yet. For a bull-dog, and considering how fully he was master of the field at present, Towser displayed amazing good nature. Only when young Ripley moved did the four-footed policeman of the camp utter that warning growl.

"Nice doggie!" coaxed Fred pleadingly. "Good old fellow!"

To this bit of rank flattery Towser offered no reply. It began to look as though he would be quite satisfied if only his captive made no effort to get away.

"Wouldn't I like to be on my feet, with a shotgun in my hands!" gritted Fred.

"Gr-r-r-r," replied Towser, as though he were an excellent reader of human minds.

For a few moments Fred lay utterly quiet, save for the trembling that he could not control.

During those same moments Towser made himself more comfortable by shifting himself so that he lay with his paws across Fred's left shoulder-blade. His teeth remained firmly fastened in Ripley's shirt.

"Now, how long are you going to stay here, you beast?" glared Fred Ripley, though he did not dare emphasize his displeasure by stirring. It was an instance in which his own displeasure amounted to infinitely less than that of the dog.

Over at the hotel Dick Prescott was reading this telegram to his chums:

"Letter received. Am communicating with other members of Council. Will let you know when I have word. Signed Howgate."

"Oh, you'll get your authorization all right," Laura declared cheerily. "It's only a matter of form."

Laura did not tell something she knew—-to the effect that at her request Dr. Bentley had wired Mr. Howgate, urging that the permission be granted to the boys to race as a high school organization.

"May we take you young ladies out in the canoe this morning?" Dick inquired.

"Only a few of us, or for very short, trips," Laura replied. "The fact is, we girls are to play hostess to you this noon."

"Hostess?" asked Dave, looking puzzled.

"Yes; we are going to be your hostesses at luncheon," Laura smiled.

"But I thought you girls were going to skip luncheon in favor of the picnic meal to-night."

"Wait until you boys see the luncheon," laughed Susie Sharp, "and you'll be sure to think we might as well have skipped that meal. It will be light and shadowy, I promise you. Toast, lettuce salad, moonbeam soup, sprites' cake, feather pudding and ghost fruit."

"Won't there be some dog biscuit?" asked Danny Grin hopefully.

"You shall have a special plate," Susie promised.

So the canoe was hauled up on the float and left there, and a general chat followed.

At noon, Dr. Bentley joined the young people, talking with them pleasantly, after which he led the way to the hotel.

There, in a little private dining room, the boys met Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Meade. The luncheon was soon after served.

It was a dainty meal, though far more elaborate than Susie had led the boys to expect.

At the end of the meal a waiter, looking duly solemn, presented at Danny Grin's elbow a plate holding three dog biscuits.

"Thank you," said Dan Dalzell politely. "But I shall keep them for future use."

Very calmly, notwithstanding Dick's slight frown, Dan placed the biscuit in his coat pockets, though some of the girls found it hard indeed not to giggle.

After the meal the party adjourned to the lawn under the shade of some fine old elms. A little later a farm wagon, drawn by a pair of horses, stopped near the group.

"Now, you must excuse us, boys," announced Laura, rising with a mysterious air. "We girls have a little errand to perform. We shall be back before half-past four o'clock."

"Wouldn't it be better to be back a good deal before that time?" urged Dick. "You see, we can't carry more than three passengers at once, and we are to have eleven guests to ferry across the lake."

"Why, didn't I tell you?" asked Laura, looking astonished. "My father said it would be an imposition to ask you boys to make four round trips this afternoon, and as many more to-night, so he has engaged one of the hotel launches to take us over, and to call for us this evening. You don't mind, do you, boys? But we would like to have you here at half-past four o'clock to go across the lake with us."

"We'll be here," Dick promised promptly.

Six high school boys watched the girls drive off in the farm wagon, waving handkerchiefs and parasols back to the boys.

"Two o'clock," remarked Dick, looking at his watch. "Suppose we take a spin up the lake?"

"Or go back to camp, to make it more ship shape?" suggested Tom Reade.

"What's the use?" inquired Prescott. "We fixed everything as well as we could before leaving there this morning. As to the safety of the camp, Harry's dog, Towser, can be depended upon to look after that."

So Dick & Co. headed up the lake in their canoe.



CHAPTER XIV

THE LIAR HAS A LIE READY

"That's an odd sight, over yonder," announced Dave, pointing shoreward with his paddle.

They were now nearly three miles above the hotel landing. They had entered a section of the country given over to truck gardening.

"Women gathering in the produce," said Dick, after a glance.

"I don't like that," uttered Dave in disgust.

"I thought we had progressed too far, and had become too civilized. Years ago I know that women used to work in the fields, but I thought we were above that sort of thing."

"Perhaps the farmer's sons' were all girls," suggested Danny Grin.

"I don't like it, anyway," retorted Dave.

"Nor I," agreed Tom. "To have women at work in the fields makes it appear as though the men are too lazy."

The sight on shore was not interesting enough to claim long attention, so the young canoeists proceeded on their way.

At a little after four o'clock, however, they were back at the landing.

Not long after, eight young women were sighted riding along in a farm wagon, while Dr. and Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Meade strolled down one of the paths.

The wagon reached the pier first, just as a launch in charge of one of the hotel employs came puffing out of a boathouse near by.

"Come here, boys, and help us unload the wagon," called Susie Sharp.

Dick & Co. sprang in answer to her summons.

"Why, what on earth have you here?" demanded Dave, opening his eyes wide as he saw the contents of the wagon.

There were dozens of ears of corn, a sack of new potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, a dozen big watermelons and a bushel of early summer apples.

"Sh!" warned Laura mysteriously. "Didn't we promise you we'd rob some farmer for the feast? Did you think that boys are the only ones who can go foraging for a country picnic?"

"You girls didn't go foraging—-did you?" gasped Dick Prescott.

"We surely did," retorted Susie Sharp.

"Didn't we say we would do so? And doesn't all this stuff prove it?"

"Then you paid the farmer for it," guessed Tom Reade wisely.

"We didn't do any such thing," Miss Sharp insisted. "Did we, girls?"

Seven other young feminine heads shook in vigorous denial.

"We didn't pay the farmer, and we didn't make any arrangement with him," said Laura quietly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "We simply drove out along the road until we came to the field, and——-"

"——-Ravaged it," supplemented Belle Meade demurely. "We went through that field like war, famine and pestilence combined!"

"Hurry!" called Susie peremptorily.

So the boys made haste with the vegetables and fruit, transferring everything to the bow of the launch, where it was neatly stacked.

"What do you think of that?" Tom demanded of Dick in a whisper at the first opportunity.

"The girls are chaffing us," Dick answered knowingly. "Stole the stuff, did they? That is, stole it in earnest? Nonsense! They're too nice girls for that! But I guess even nice girls, like some decent fellows, find enjoyment, once in a while, in making believe they are doing something desperate. Of course they didn't really steal this stuff."

"If they did," muttered Tom, "they'd be the kind of girls we wouldn't want to know."

"It's all right," Dick assured him. "Sooner or later the truth of this joke of theirs will all come out. There are no finer girls in the country than they."

By this time the older people had joined them. Dr. Bentley's party embarked in the launch, taking up all the room there was.

"Pass us your bow-line, and we can just as well give you boys a tow," proposed the doctor. "There is no use in your paddling."

"Thank you very much, sir," Dick answered, "but paddling is just the fun for which we bought this canoe. We do it because we like it. And we'll show you how fast we can get across the lake."

With a toot of the whistle the launch started. Dick gave the word to his chums. At first the canoe, even under moderate paddling, went ahead of the launch, though gradually the launch drew up.

"You boys look as if you were working," called Dr. Bentley.

"We're doing very little work, sir," Dave answered. "We could make the canoe go faster than this, but it would hardly do to run ahead of our guests."

In truth the canoe slipped rapidly through the water with the expenditure of only a moderate amount of energy on the part of Dick & Co.

In a few minutes the lake had been crossed. A point was found at which the launch could be backed in. By this time the boys were on shore, their canoe hauled up, and they stood ready to help their guests ashore.

"We've landed a little below the camp," said Dick, "but it won't take us more than a minute to walk there. After we've taken you into the camp we'll return for the garden truck."

Gr-r-r-r-r! came a warning sound through the bushes.

"Towser!" spoke Harry Hazelton sharply. "I'm ashamed of you!"

"You ought to be!" came the answer in another voice, and a surly one, at that.

"Fred Ripley?" muttered Dick. "What on earth can he be doing here?"

Unconsciously all of the picnickers hastened their steps. Then they came upon a truly ludicrous sight.

Fred lay where he had been lying ever since ten o'clock that morning. He was coatless, stretched out face downward, with Towser still camped across his shoulder, and the dog's teeth still fastened in his shirt.

"Come and call this measly dog off!" ordered Fred, in a surly tone. "This is a fine reward that I get for trying to do you fellows a friendly turn!"

Dick, Dave and Tom were the first to get within range and obtain a glimpse of the extraordinary scene. They halted, gasping, though their glances swiftly took in the whole affair. They comprehended what Ripley had been doing, and how the dog had come upon the marauder.

By this time the other members of the party came in sight. Fred still lay on the ground, scowling and fuming over his undignified position, while Towser still kept an eye open for business.

"Call this dog off!" Fred ordered again.

"How did the dog happen to catch you here?" Dick asked quietly.

"Call this dog off and I'll tell you," snapped Fred. "I was trying to do you fellows a good turn, but the dog had to interfere and get hold of the wrong party."

"You were trying to do us a good turn?" gasped Dick wonderingly.

"Yes—-but it will be the last time, unless you call this dog off," snarled young Ripley.

Perhaps it is hardly necessary to say that not one in the party believed Fred's extraordinary story.

"Hazelton, get this dog of yours away, or I'll go to court and secure an order to have the beast shot!" snapped young Ripley.

But at this moment another voice was heard calling from the roadway:

"Fred! Fred! Are you there?"

It was Squire Ripley's voice, though the lawyer himself could not be seen as yet.

"Yes, sir; your son is here," Dick answered. "Come and see just how he is here!"

"Get your dog off quickly, Hazelton!" urged Fred.

But Harry, at a slight sign from Dick, didn't stir or open his mouth to call off his dog.

Through the brush came the sound of hurried steps. Then Lawyer Ripley stepped into the group.

"Fred, what on earth does this mean?" demanded the lawyer, staring hard.

"That's just what we thought you might like to find out, sir," Dick replied. "We've been away from camp all day, and just came back to this scene, Mr. Ripley. You are something of an expert in the matter of evidence, sir. Will you kindly tell us what you make out of this? There is our tent cut down. There are all of our food supplies in a pile, except what you see scattered about on the ground. Your son appears to have been headed for the lake when our dog overtook him and pinned him down. As a lawyer, Mr. Ripley, what would you conclude from the evidence thus presented?"

"Call that dog away!" ordered Mr. Ripley.

"Willingly, sir," Dick agreed, "now that you have had opportunity to look into all the evidence that we found. Harry, will you do the honors?"

Smiling slightly, Hazelton stepped forward to speak to Towser. That four-footed guardian of the camp displayed some resentment at first over the idea of letting go of Fred's shirt. After a little, however, Hazelton succeeded in getting his dog away and tied to a tree.

Fred rose to his feet, his face fiery red while he trembled visibly.

"What is the meaning of this, young man?" demanded Lawyer Ripley.

"The meaning," choked the lawyer's son wrathfully, "is just this: I was coming by this place this morning in the runabout, when I heard a good deal of coarse laughter down here. I knew the voices weren't those of boys, and so I knew that something must be up. I got out of the car and came over here. I saw two tramps in the camp. They had already cut down the tent, and when I arrived they were planning to cart the food away. Then they saw me as I stepped forward. I told them what I thought of them for thieving in such fashion. Then the tramps got ready to jump on me and thrash me. Just as I raised my hands to defend myself this dog came bounding out of the woods and the tramps ran away. Having no more sense than any other fool dog, the cur pinned me down and held me here."

"All day?" asked his father.

"Yes; I've been a prisoner here for hours," quavered Fred. "And now these fellows want to make out, before the high school friends of mine," nodding toward the girls, "that I was the thief and destroyer."

"That story is straightforward enough," commented the lawyer, turning to the others rather stiffly. "Do any of you wish to challenge it?"

No one spoke.

"I'll tell you what I wish, father," broke in Fred angrily. "I want an order from the court to have that dog seized and shot. He's a vicious and dangerous brute!"

"I think such a court order will be easily obtained," replied Mr. Ripley frigidly.

Harry Hazelton turned pale, clenching his fists, though he had the good sense not to speak just then. The other boys all looked highly concerned.

"Were you bitten by the dog?" asked Dr. Bentley quietly.

"I—-I don't know yet," replied Fred. "I can't tell."

"Mr. Ripley," said Dr. Bentley very quietly, "if you contemplate seeking a court order for having the dog shot, then I suggest that you permit me to take the young man aside and examine him. I am a physician, with a good many years of practice behind me, and any court would pronounce me competent to testify as to whether your son has been bitten, and, if so, to what extent."

"I don't choose to be examined here," Fred declared sulkily. "If I want anything of that sort done our own physician can do it."

"Young man," replied Dr. Bentley, "your father is an eminent lawyer. He is therefore qualified to inform you that if you decline an examination now as to the presence or absence of injuries on your body, your refusal would have to be taken into account in contested court action for the death of the dog."

"Dr. Bentley is quite right, and he has stated the matter accurately," replied Mr. Ripley. "Fred, do you desire to be examined now? If so, we can go away to some secluded spot with the doctor, and with the dog's owner and any other witness desired."

"I don't want to do anything now but to get away from here," replied Fred sulkily. "I want to be rid of Prescott and his friends as soon as possible."

"Very good, then," nodded his father. "You may do as you like, but if you refuse Dr. Bentley's suggestion for an immediate examination you will stand no chance of securing an order dooming the dog."

Fred's further answer was an angry snort as he turned away. His father lingered to say:

"If your suspicions that my son was here improperly are anywhere near correct, then you are entitled to my most hearty apology. Fred is a peculiar and high-strung boy, but I believe his impulses are right in the main. I will add that I believe his account of how he came to be in this strange plight. He took the car early this morning. I am just returning from a spin in our larger automobile. I saw my runabout at the edge of the road and it occurred to me to stop and see if my son were here. Is there anything more to be said about my son's peculiar experience here?"

"Nothing, thank you, Mr. Ripley," replied Dr. Bentley, after a sidelong glance at Dick.

"Then I will bid you all good afternoon," replied Squire Ripley, raising his hat to the women.

Dr. Bentley watched the lawyer out of sight, then turned to Hazelton with a smile.

"Harry," remarked the physician, "your dog won't be shot by order of the court."



CHAPTER XV

AT THE GREATEST OF FEASTS

It proved a glorious affair, that picnic by the edge of the lake.

Tom and Dan took Clara and Susie out in the canoe to watch them as they fished.

The other four boys fell to with a will, reweaving in new guy ropes and erecting the tent again.

Then firewood was gathered in armfuls and several campfires started.

Just before dark the canoe came in with a cargo of nearly four dozen fish.

These Tom and Dan took to one side and quickly cleaned. Just as Dick and Dave were beginning to realize with some embarrassment that they had nowhere near enough dishes for such an affair, the man from the launch appeared with two baskets of dishes. He then brought up three folding tables and proceeded to set them up, next bringing on campstools. Dr. Bentley had overlooked nothing. Last of all paper lanterns were strung from the trees, and just at dark these were lighted.

Potatoes were set to boil in a kettle. Embers were raked down and corn still in the husks was set in the embers and covered up to roast. Some of the girls sliced more tomatoes than the whole party could eat. Cucumbers, too, were prepared.

Fish were broiled on grates over the fires. All was ready just before dark.

Dick gave the launch man a hearty invitation to join them at supper, the latter shaking his head, expressed his thanks and hurried away.

What an appetizing meal it was! Nothing seemed to have gone wrong. It was a merry party indeed that sat down around the tables.

Suddenly there came an interruption. "Camp! Oh, I say—-camp!" called a gruff voice from the road.

"Here!" called Dick, rising from the table. "Who is it?"

"Any girls there?" demanded the same voice.

"Several," Dick acknowledged.

"Having a picnic, are you?" demanded the strange voice.

"The best ever!" Dick replied heartily.

"Lots of fresh vegetables, too, eh?"

"Ye-es," Dick assented slowly, and with a peculiar feeling. He recalled the laughing talk of the girls about "stealing," and now wondered what was about to happen.

"I guess they're the girls I want, then," continued the voice of the unseen speaker.

Dick & Co. felt a swift spasm of uneasiness, for that voice sounded as though it might belong to the law.

A moment later a roughly dressed man moved down into the circle.

"My name is Dobson," said the new comer, looking hard at the girls. "I reckon you were in my truck garden this afternoon, weren't you?"

"Why—-er——ye-es," admitted Laura, the first to find her voice. She rose and faced Mr. Dobson with a look of budding uneasiness.

"Took lot of my vegetables, didn't you?" pressed the farmer.

"Ye-es," faltered Laura, "but——-"

"Excuse me, miss, but there aren't many kinds of 'buts' about a transaction of that kind," insisted the farmer.

Here, Dr. Bentley, who had looked less concerned than anyone else present, broke in:

"Your name is Dobson?" he asked.

"Not Gibson, then?" pressed the doctor.

"Course my name isn't Gibson, if it's Dobson," retorted the farmer. "There is a man named Gibson who lives 'bout a quarter of a mile from my place."

"Then I imagine I shall have to take you one side and have a little conversation with you," smiled the doctor, rising. "Will you follow me?"

The farmer nodded without speaking and the two men walked away.

Ten minutes later Dr. Bentley returned to the young people.

"I appeased the farmer's wrath," he announced, with a laugh. "And now, young ladies, if my judgment is worth anything, I think it is about time to let the cat out of the bag."

Eight high school girls flushed and looked rather confused.

"Why, has anything wrong been going on?" inquired Mrs. Bentley anxiously, while Mrs. Meade waited breathlessly for the reply.

"Nothing extremely wrong," replied Dr. Bentley. "I will explain what happened. Some of these young ladies, having heard that boys occasionally rob orchards or gardens for a feast, laughingly promised the young hosts of this evening that they would steal the necessary vegetables for to-night's supper. Now, while some boys may sometimes do such things, it is needless to add that no boy with a good home and a mother's training is likely to become engaged in such petty pilfering. I don't believe the boys for a moment credited the girls with any real stealing."

"We didn't," spoke up Dick promptly. "We knew there was a string to the joke somewhere."

"These young ladies consulted me," went on Dr. Bentley. "Of course they wanted the whole matter kept very quiet, and they made me promise secrecy. I told them that I didn't like their plan at all, but they coaxed, and I will admit that I yielded to their coaxing very much against my best judgment. They wanted to be able to say that they hadn't paid the farmer, or made any arrangement whatever with him. That much is true. They didn't approach the farmer—-they sent me. I went to Farmer Gibson and made the arrangement with him for the supplies, paying him in advance a fair price for whatever the young ladies would take out of his garden. Yet, in spite of my care in the matter, and my very explicit directions to them, it seems that they went astray, and descended upon the truck garden of Mr. Dobson, instead of that of Mr. Gibson. Mr. Dobson, not having received any pay, very naturally objected to being looted of his vegetables while Mr. Gibson received the money. But I have been able to explain matters in a satisfactory manner to Mr. Dobson, and have sent him on his ways"

Eight very crestfallen high school girls listened to this recital.

The boys, had they not felt a manly sympathy for their discomfited friends, would have laughed outright.

"I am glad that it is no worse," said Mrs. Bentley in a relieved voice. "At the same time, it was a very silly performance."

"It was," nodded the doctor, who turned to the girls to add:

"My dears, as you succeeded this time in making me your very reluctant accomplice, I am in no position to say very much to you. But I trust you all realize the situation and its outcome, and that you will never allow yourselves to be made ridiculous again in any such way."

"I don't believe we shall," Laura replied. "We felt ashamed of ourselves afterwards, but we were silly enough to feel because we had pledged ourselves to forage for fruit and vegetables that the joke must be carried out."

"Tom Reade," snapped Susie Sharp, "you are just bursting with laughter that you can hardly hold back."

"Not I!" Tom denied promptly. "I am congratulating myself that we boys had sense enough not to take seriously your claim that you had been robbing anyone's garden. As it happened, you did that very thing, but you didn't know it, and you didn't mean to."

There was an embarrassed silence. Then Dick proposed:

"Let's have a good-natured laugh all around and forget the whole thing."

That relieved the awkwardness of the situation. After that a watermelon was cut and brought to the tables.

"Gridley, ahoy!" called a voice across the dark waters.

"Who's there?" called Dick.

"Preston High School Canoe Club. May we visit your camp?"

"Shall I invite them over?" asked Dick, looking at Mrs. Bentley and then at the girls.

Receiving their consent, he called out:

"Come in, Preston High School! Welcome!"

A soft splashing of paddles showed where the visitors were coming in to shore. Dan Dalzell taking the camp lantern, ran to meet them.

A moment later six Preston lads were stepping ashore, one after the other. Dick, having excused himself at table, came forward also to greet them.

Two of the Preston High School boys were already acquainted with Laura Bentley and some of her friends. Introductions followed rapidly.

"Drop into the Gridley seats and have some of the watermelon," Dick pressed the visitors, he and his chums standing in order to do the honors of the occasion.

"It looks as though we had been trying to invite ourselves to a banquet," laughed Hartwell, "big chief" of the Preston High School "Indians." "We didn't mean to seem as rude as that, Prescott."

"All I know," smiled Dick cordially, "is that you are all heartily welcome. Can we stir up a fire and broil some fish?"

"Don't think of it, thank you," begged Hartwell. "We've had our suppers—-dinners, the hotel folks insist on calling 'em. It's jolly enough for us to be allowed to join you and see the watermelon passing around."

"Chug! chug! Puff! puff!" sounded the returning launch. Dick glanced apprehensively at Dr. Bentley and the ladies. Did the coming of the launch mean that it was about time for the pleasant evening to break up?

"Might I ask where and how you find such delicious watermelons in this neck of the woods?" inquired Brown, of the Prestons.

"Ask the young ladies," piped up Danny Grin, thereby getting himself much disliked for at least the next thirty seconds.

"Dr. Bentley and the young ladies obtained the melons from a farmer," explained Tom Reade, giving Dan an unseen poke in the small of the back.

"These melons look good enough to steal," laughed Hartwell, and was unable to understand the total silence that greeted his assertion.

"Help wanted from a couple of you boys!" called the voice of the launch man.

Four of Dick & Co. raced down to the water's edge. They came back, staggering under a big bucket covered on the top with bagging.

"What is this?" asked Dick.

"Ice cream," explained the doctor. "Mrs. Bentley's suggestion."

"We fellows of Preston High School feel ashamed of ourselves for having intruded," exclaimed Hartwell. "May we be permitted to withdraw?"

"At any time after ten o'clock," smiled Mrs. Bentley graciously. "We shall be very much disappointed if you leave us at present."

There was a clatter of dishes and spoons. Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Meade presided over this part of the camp feast.

"We needn't ask you Gridley fellows if you've been having a good time," declared Hartwell presently. "But we hadn't any idea that we should intrude on an affair of this sort. In fact, while business must be barred now, I will admit that business was the object of our call."

"What sort of business?" inquired Dick Prescott.

"We came to challenge you fellows to a race," explained Big Chief Hartwell.

"A race?" chuckled Dave. "Queer how you've bit us where we live!"

"Do you think you can beat us in a canoe race?" asked Hartwell.

"Yes," Dick rejoined. "All we need to arrange is the date. We'll beat you on any date that you name! That isn't brag, please understand! It's merely the old, old Gridley High School way."

The young ladies applauded this sentiment merrily.



CHAPTER XVI

A SCALP-HUNTING DISAPPOINTMENT

"Want to try us out, Gridley?" hailed Big Chief Hartwell, from the Preston High School canoe.

It was nearly ten o'clock the next morning, but Dick & Co. had just finished putting their camp to rights after breakfast, for they had slept late after the feast.

"Do we want to try you out?" Dick answered laughingly. "Why, we don't have to do that. We shall be ready to hand you a beating, though, at any time you ask for it. We can't help beating you, you know. It's the Gridley way!"

"Brag is a good dog," derided Brown from the bow seat of the Preston canoe.

"We keep both dogs here," Dave shouted tantalizingly.

"Are you coming out to wallop us?" Hartwell insisted.

"Yes; if you insist upon it," Dick agreed. "But we don't like to do it."

"Get into your canoe and come out and see how much of your brag you can make good," was Hartwell's calm reply.

"What? Now?" Prescott inquired.

"'Now' is always the best time to do a thing," declared Mason, of Preston High School.

"Oh, no," smiled Dick, with a shake of his head. "You fellows have been out for some time this morning. You'll have to give us time to warm up properly."

"I didn't suppose Gridley needed a little thing like that," Hartwell taunted. "You Gridleyites are such sure winners, you know, that you ought not to need such a little thing as preparation."

"One of the reasons why Gridley wins," Dick retorted, "is that we always use common sense when entering sporting events. So we'll ask you to oblige us with a gift of our rights in the matter. In fifteen minutes we'll be ready for you."

Gently the canoe was launched in the water. Harry, with a remembrance of yesterday's events, called Towser, saying sternly:

"Stay right here, boy, and watch. Maybe you'll get the rest of Rip's shirt to-day."

"And maybe he won't," chuckled Dave. "That's what I call holding out false hopes to a dog. Rip won't venture within five miles of here to-day. Yet perhaps Towser will bag some other game for us."

"Into the canoe with you, you loitering braves!" called Big Chief Prescott firmly.

Away went the Gridley war canoe, gliding smoothly.

"Our craft is the 'Pathfinder'," called Hartwell, across the water. "What do you call your boat?"

"The 'Scalp-hunter'," smiled Dick. As a matter of fact he and his friends had forgotten to name the canoe, but he supplied the name on the spur of the moment. It made a prompt hit with his chums.

"You don't believe you can win any race with such paddling as yours, do you?" Hartwell called derisively.

"We don't show all our fine points to the enemy until the battle is on," was Prescott's amiable answer. "Even then you won't see all our best tricks; you'll be too busy paddling to keep in sight of us."

Only very gradually did Dick allow his crew to warm up to their work. The Preston boys soon paddled over to the middle of the lake, and there lay resting.

"Now, we'll go back and give them a brush," Dick murmured to his chums. "Don't exceed any orders that I give in the brush. Don't be at all uneasy if we find the Prestons going ahead of us."

"Haven't we got to win?" queried Dave.

"Especially after all the brag we've been throwing in their direction?" Tom supplemented.

"We'll win if we can do it easily," Dick answered. "Otherwise we won't."

"Then what becomes of our Gridley talk?" asked Greg.

"The difference is that this isn't a real race to-day," Prescott explained. "This is only a brush, and we're in it only to see what the Preston boys can show us about canoe handling."

At a rather slow, easy dip, the "Scalp-hunter" ranged up near the "Pathfinder."

"All ready there, Gridley?" called Hartwell rather impatiently.

"As ready as we're going to be," said Dick.

"Flying start, or from a stop?"

"Either," Dick nodded.

"Then," proposed Hartwell, "move along until your prow is flush with ours. When I give the word both crews paddle for all they're worth. Steer for the two blasted pines at the lower end of the lake."

"That's good," Dick agreed.

Very gently the war canoe ranged alongside, her bark sides, well-oiled, glistening in the sunlight. The Preston canoe was not of bark, but of cedar frame, covered with canvas.

Hartwell evidently wanted a wholly fair race, for he even allowed the "Scalp-hunter's" prow the lead of a couple of feet before he shouted:

"Go it!"

Amid a great flashing of paddles the two canoes started. The Preston High School craft soon obtained a lead of a foot or so, and held it. Now the contest was a stubborn one. Gridley gained two feet more.

"You see," called Dick in a low voice, "this is the Gridley way."

"Is it?" Hartwell inquired. "Hanky-pank!"

Plainly enough the last two words were a signal. Though the Preston High School boys did not make much visible change in their style or speed of dip, the "Pathfinder" now gained perceptibly. Within a minute she had a lead of a clean ten feet, and seemed likely to increase the interval.

"Why don't you come along, Gridley?" called back the big chief in the leading canoe.

"Too early," smiled Dick. Nor did he allow the Gridley boys to increase their speed. Presently the "Pathfinder" led by two lengths.

"Why didn't you tell us," Hartwell demanded over his shoulder, "that the much vaunted Gridley way is 'way to the rear?"

"We haven't reached the pines yet, have we?" Dick asked.

"No; and you won't, to-day, unless you push that clumsy tub of yours along faster."

"Don't wait for us," Dick answered goodnaturedly. "We'll be here after a little while."

"We'll wait for you when we land," laughed Hartwell. "Mumble bumble!"

Another secret signal, surely, for again the "Pathfinder" began to increase the distance from the Gridley rival.

"We'd better stop, and pretend we're only fishing," muttered Tom Reade, but Dick kept grimly silent. He was watching every move of the Preston paddlers.

"Why, they're leading us four lengths," muttered Darrin, in an undertone. But Prescott appeared unworried.

"We'll try to brace our speed, by and by," Dick answered.

"And so will the other fellows," Tom surmised. "They're not going at anything like their pace as yet."

For a quarter of a mile the canoes held the same relative position.

"Now, liven up," Dick called softly. "One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!"

Catching the rhythm, Dick & Co. put in some good strokes, their paddling becoming faster and stronger. A length and a half of the interval was closed up.

"Porky-poo!" ordered Hartwell.

Answering, the Preston High School boys paddled as though fury now possessed them. They held the pace, too.

"Hit it up hard, now," Dick commanded. "One, two, three, four!"

Never had Gridley responded more nobly on any field of sport or other contest than now. The paddles flew, their wet blades gleaming in the air, only to disappear under the water again. Each recovery was swift, prompt rhythmic!

But Hartwell's crew was also showing the stuff of which it was made.

"Stop paddling—-back water!" shouted Hartwell finally.

The "Pathfinder" lay on the water, motionless, only two yards from the shore on which stood the blasted pines.

At that same instant the Gridley High School "Scalp-hunter" was a trifle more than seven lengths astern.

"That was good and warming," smiled Big Chief Dick, as the second canoe came up.

"Yah, yah, yah!" retorted the Preston High School boys, betraying their delight in derisive grins.

"Where is that wonderful, all-conquering way you were telling us about?" chaffed Hartwell.

"You'll find out when we race," smiled Prescott calmly.

"When we race?" repeated Preston's big chief. "Didn't we race just now? Or do you consider that it wasn't a race just because you weren't in it?"

"It wasn't a race," Dick answered. "Merely a brush."

"Brush?" repeated Hartwell indignantly. "Didn't we challenge you fellows, and didn't you accept? Also, didn't you lose?"

"We lost the brush," Dick admitted.

"You lost the race to us," Hartwell declared stoutly. "Preston High School beat Gridley High School by several lengths!"

"Hardly that," Dick retorted coolly. "Preston High School merely distanced some boys from Gridley High School. You didn't defeat a Gridley High School canoe crew."

"Why didn't we?" the Preston High School big chief questioned.

"Because, if you recall all the chat we had last night, the 'Scalp-hunter's' crew isn't yet official. We haven't been authorized by the Athletic Council of Gridley High School."

"Is that the way you get out of it?" blurted Hartwell.

"No," Dick smiled. "That's the way we get Gridley High School out of the charge of defeat. As soon as we're authorized to represent Gridley High School as an official canoe crew, then you may claim any victory you can obtain over us. But you haven't beaten our high school yet for the reason that we don't officially represent Gridley High School. Isn't that all clear?"

"I suppose so," Hartwell assented disappointedly. "But we took it that we were racing the Gridley High School Canoe Club."

"Then after this you want to do more thinking," Dick laughed. "But don't feel too disappointed, Preston. Just as soon as we receive sanction from our Athletic Council we'll give you a race in earnest, and a chance for all the glory you are able to take away from us."

There was some further good-natured talk, after which the two canoe clubs separated.

Dick guided the "Scalp-hunter" back to camp. There, as soon as the canoe had been hauled ashore, Dave Darrin threw himself on the grass, remarking:

"This morning teaches us something! We're in no class with those Preston High School boys. We've no business racing, in the name of our school, before next summer!"



CHAPTER XVII

THE GOOD WORD BY WIRE

"We'll race within a few days," Dick declared serenely. "We've got to race soon, for our funds won't hold out long and we can't stay here all summer."

"The Athletic Council will thank us for losing the race," murmured Greg Holmes, ironically.

"We won't lose," Dick maintained, "unless you fellows throw the race against Gridley."

"Throw the race?" echoed Tom Reade indignantly. "Dick Prescott, do you think we'd do a thing like that?"

"I'm sure you wouldn't," their big chief admitted coolly.

"Do you mean to say that we didn't do our best this morning?" questioned Danny Grin.

"Our very best?" added Hazelton.

"We all did the best that was in us—-this morning," Dick went on. "But we'll be a lot better prepared when we get into a real race."

"I don't believe I can paddle any harder than I did at the finish this morning," Reade argued. "In fact, I know I can't. My back aches yet with the work that I did."

"I don't doubt it," Dick smiled. "I know that my back aches."

"Then how are we going to win in any other race against Preston High School?" Darrin asked curiously.

"Did you fellows study the paddling work of the Prestons this morning?" Prescott asked.

"I saw their paddles ahead of us all the time," Greg murmured.

"That was a good place to have their paddles, for study," Dick laughed. "Couldn't you see, from their paddling, why they beat us with ease?"

"No! Could you?" challenged Tom.

"Yes. The Preston fellows dip their paddles better than we do. They dip so that the blade always cuts the breeze, instead of meeting it. When they recover they turn their paddles so as to slip them out of the water without throwing any back strain on the canoe's progress. I was studying their paddling work all the time, and I hoped that you fellows were doing the same."

"The Prestons have a lighter, swifter canoe, anyway," contended Dave.

"I think they have some advantage over us, that way," Dick nodded. "At the same time I am certain that we ought to beat Preston by beating their style of paddling."

"Beating their style of paddling?" echoed Reade. "Why, according to what you've told us we can't even equal their paddling."

"We're going to equal it," Dick answered, "and we ought to beat it. At two o'clock, fellows, we're going out for two hours of drill. Then I'll try to explain what I think I saw of the Preston superiority in dipping and recovery. If I really observed correctly, then we ought to be able to do much better, for I also think I see how to improve on the Preston High School paddle work enough to make their performance look almost clumsy."

"If you can do that," proclaimed Hazelton ungrudgingly, "then you're a wonder, Dick."

"We shall see," smiled the big chief.

"And if we don't see straight," mumbled Reade, "then Preston will hand us such a wallop that we won't even have the nerve to take up a challenge from Trentville High School."

For the rest of the morning Dick & Co. were much more thoughtful than usual. They had met defeat—-a thing they didn't relish. Yet they knew, in advance, how much worse they would feel if they met a defeat when officially entered as a Gridley High School crew—-for the honor of their school was dear to them all.

The noonday meal was over before one o'clock. Dick would not allow the "Scalp-hunter" to be put in the water a minute before two. He wanted to be sure that digestion had proceeded far enough so that they might do their best.

At the time appointed, however, he took the crew out on the water, and there carefully explained what he thought he had learned of the better paddling style of the Preston High School boys.

"You certainly did see a whole lot that I didn't see," Reade admitted, "and I believe that you saw it straight, too, Dick."

"We can certainly shoot the old canoe ahead faster, already," Dave murmured delightedly.

"Now, Dick, what are the improvements you thought you might have on the Preston style?" Danny Grin asked eagerly.

"To-morrow will be time enough to try out improvements, or any kind of frills," Prescott answered patiently. "For this afternoon let us confine ourselves to paddling as well as the Preston High School fellows do it. To-morrow we'll see if we can't do better than they do."

After a little more practice it was surprising how much more easily they took to the new style of paddling.

"Rest on your paddles for a few minutes," Dick ordered. "Get in some deep breaths. Then I'm going to pump up your speed to the best that you can do with the new stroke. We'll try to go to the hotel landing flying."

When all was ready Prescott gave the word.

"Now, your best speed, and all the strength you can properly put into the work. Go! One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!"

Across the lake sped the canoe, Dick & Co. fully aware that they were now traveling at a speed that had been impossible to them that same morning.

"Stop paddling! Back water! Stop backing!"

With deft movements of his own paddle, Dick swung the canoe in gently against the float.

Out of the boathouse near by came Bob Hartwell.

"I've been watching you fellows," he called.

"That's fair enough," Dick answered.

"You're doing some better than you did this morning," Hartwell went on. "You've almost got our stroke."

"Almost?" repeated young Prescott, raising his eyebrows. "Haven't we improved a good deal on your Preston High School action?"

Bob Hartwell began to laugh.

"You fellows from Gridley are always world beaters, aren't you?" he demanded good-humoredly. "At first, I thought it was all brag on your part, and that you fellows were suffering from enlarged craniums complicated with bragitis. But now I begin to see that you talk confidently just in order to convince yourselves that you can't be beaten at anything. And I don't know that it's such bad 'dope,' either, as the sporting writers put it."

"Let's hear you try some," urged Dick.

"Brag?" asked Hartwell. "No; I don't believe I have mastered the idea well enough to do any really sincere bragging as yet. However, if you ever beat us at anything except brag, then I'm going to try to copy your form in the boasting line."

By this time Dick & Co. were dragging their canoe up onto the float.

"I hope Rip isn't sneaking anywhere about these grounds," muttered Danny Grin.

"Who's Rip?" Bob Hartwell asked curiously. Then: "Oh, I beg your pardon for being too inquisitive," as he saw Dick frown at Dalzell.

"I'm going to remain on the float, while you fellows go up into the hotel grounds," said Tom.

"All of you go, and I'll stay and watch your canoe," suggested Bob Hartwell. "That is, if you're willing to trust me as sentry."

"Of course we're willing," Dick responded. "But it's only right that one of our own crowd should do such work. Are you coming up with us, Hartwell?"

"Why, yes," Bob answered, "if I can't be of any service to you here."

Slowly the boys sauntered up through the walks. Then out on the porch came Manager Wright, waving a yellow envelope.

"That's probably the answer from the Athletic Council of Gridley High School," Dick explained, turning to Hartwell. "You don't mind if I run on ahead and leave you, do you?"

"You may run on ahead and leave me if you're as handy at running as you are at bragging," chuckled Bob. All of the boys in the group were soon at the porch. Mr. Wright descended the steps to hand Dick the envelope.

Dick tore open the envelope hurriedly.

"It's all right!" he called gleefully. "Mr. Howgate sends this word:"

"'Athletic Council approves and sanctions your representing Gridley High School on the water with your Canoe Club. Wish you success! Be careful not to risk lowering Gridley's standard in sports through recklessness.'"

"When do Gridley and Preston race in a regular event?" demanded Bob Hartwell promptly.

"Mr. Wright has been most kind to us about several matters," Dick answered. "I'd like to ask him what date will be most satisfactory."