The High School Boys' Training Hike Part 40

"They've been gathering at Miller's, and other like places, for a couple of hours," Mr. Hartshorn went on. "But, as is the case with all such movements, some news of it leaked outside. We got word a bit late, or we'd have been here before that crowd came along. When we knew the word was straight some of us telephoned to others, and our crowd was gotten together, but as it is, we got here in season. Are any of you boys hurt?"

"No, sir; not one of us," d.i.c.k declared. "But some of us might have been seriously injured if you gentlemen had been delayed for another minute."

"We'll know the rascals to-morrow," spoke up another of the rescuers.

"If they appear on the streets at all they'll be recognized.

We have marked them up pretty well. They've gone off vowing to have the law on us."

"All they'll do will be to put arnica on themselves," declared Mr. Hartshorn. "And they will send friends to the drugstore for the arnica. They won't take the risk of being recognized on the streets. They'll be a shame-faced lot in the morning."

"It was mighty good of you men to come down and help us out,"

murmured d.i.c.k Prescott gratefully. "We would have had a pretty tough time if we had been left to ourselves."

"We'd go further than we've traveled tonight, to help out boys like you," declared another man present. "Prescott, that was a fine thing you did to Miller to-night, and Tom Drake will be grateful as long as he lives."

"If Drake keeps away from drink in the future," d.i.c.k answered, "he will have reason to congratulate himself."

"Oh, Drake will keep away from the stuff after this," said one of the citizens. "Young Drake has a head of his own, and we'll see that he uses it. We'll keep a friendly eye over him. Don't worry. Young Tom Drake will never a.s.sociate with any of Miller's kind again."

"Whenever any of you boys want to go to sleep, just say so," urged Mr. Hartshorn, "and we'll run along."

"Why, I believe we're a bit waked up, at present," smiled young Prescott, as he turned to glance at the others in the light thrown by the automobile lamps.

"I don't feel as though I needed any more sleep," laughed Tom Reade.

"If you boys are thinking of sitting up to watch against another surprise, don't bother about it," advised Mr. Hartshorn. "You've seen the very last that you'll see of those rascals. Men of that sort never have nerve enough to attempt a risky thing twice."

"I'm going to put some wood in the stove and make coffee," Danny Grin announced.

"Can't we offer you a cup of coffee, gentlemen?" proposed Prescott.

"And sandwiches? We have plenty of the fixings for sandwiches."

The idea prevailed to such an extent that Dalzell put on a kettle of water to boil, while Tom and Dave began to slice bread and open tinned meats.

"I'm going to sit down on the ground and be comfortable," declared one of the Fentonites, when coffee and food were pa.s.sed around.

"Do you know, gentlemen," said Tom Reade, as he munched a sandwich, "I'm beginning to like Fenton next to our own town of Gridley."

"Fenton isn't anywhere near as large a place as Gridley," replied one of the guests.

"No; but for its size Fenton is a lively place," Reade went on.

"There seems to be something happening here every minute."

"That is when young fellows like you come along and start the ball rolling," chuckled Farmer Hartshorn. "There has been more excitement to-night in Fenton than I can remember during the last five years. I've seen you play football, Prescott, and you're a wonder at the game. Yet what you did to-night for young Tom Drake is a bigger thing than winning a whole string of the greatest football games of the year."

"Football is more exciting, though," smiled d.i.c.k.

"Is it?" demanded Mr. Hartshorn. "More exciting than what you've been through tonight? Then I'll never play football! More excitement than you've had to-night isn't healthful for any growing young fellow!"

For fully an hour these men of Fenton remained at the camp, talking with their young hosts, and, incidentally, picking up a lot of information about the sports and pastimes that most interest wide-awake boys of to-day.

At last, however, disclaiming the thanks offered by d.i.c.k & Co., the guests went away in the automobiles that had brought them, while d.i.c.k Prescott and his chums prepared to finish out the night's rest.

CHAPTER XXIII

TIMMY, THE GENTLEMAN, AT HOME

"Oh, won't life seem stale when we get back into the land of crowded business streets and schoolhouses?" grumbled Reade, as, perched on the seat of the camp wagon, he drove out onto the highway the next morning, followed by the other members of d.i.c.k & Co. on foot.

"No, sir!" Darry retorted. "Life won't seem stale on that account.

Instead, it will be brightened by the pleasant recollection of this summer's fun, which is now so soon to be ended."

"You're not going through Fenton, are you, d.i.c.k?" asked Greg.

"I guess we'll have to. We were pretty well cleaned out of some of our provisions last night. We shall have to replenish our food supply, and Fenton is the only real town along our route to-day. The rest are small farming villages."

"But we'll attract a lot of attention," declared Holmes.

"You won't," laughed Darry. "You didn't go to town with us last night, and consequently you're not known there."

"I'd rather not go through the town myself," d.i.c.k explained, "but it seems to me that as long as we must purchase supplies we ought to make a stop in the town that's likely to have the best stores."

Fenton's princ.i.p.al street had rather a sleepy look this hot August morning. There were but few people abroad as d.i.c.k & Co. turned into the main thoroughfare.

At Miller's place there was not a sign of life. "I'll wager that brute is applying raw beef to his eyes this morning," muttered Tom, somewhat vindictively.

Prescott's watchful glance soon discovered a provision store that looked more than usually promising. At a word from him Tom reined in the horse, while Prescott and Darrin went inside to make purchases.

When they came out they found Farmer Hartshorn and another man talking with Tom Reade.

"You young men of Gridley don't look any the worse, this morning, for the excitement you had last night," said Mr. Hartshorn, after a cordial greeting. "Reade tells me that you left the milk-pail at my house as you came along."

"Yes, sir," d.i.c.k nodded. "And with it, we left our very best thanks for the fine treat that milk proved to be to us."

"Prescott, shake hands with Mr. Stark. He's our leading lawyer in this little place."

"I've heard a good deal about you this morning," said the lawyer, as he shook hands.

Mr. Stark was a tall, thin man, of perhaps forty-five years of age. Warm as was the day he was attired wholly in black, a bit rusty, and wore a high silk hat that was beginning to show signs of age. He belonged to a type of rural lawyer that is now pa.s.sing.

"I think we've heard of you, too," smiled Prescott innocently.

"Have you?" asked the lawyer, looking somewhat astonished.

"Yes," d.i.c.k went on. "I think it must have been your letter that Mr. Reuben Hinman showed us one day. It was in regard to a bill he had given you to collect. Mr. Hinman is in the hospital and must need quite a bit of money just at present so I beg to express the hope that you have been able to collect the other half of the debt---the half that belongs to him."