The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 40

"It has been very pleasant here," Prescott agreed, "and if the rest of you vote for it, I'll agree to put in the rest of our summer vacation hereabouts."

"No," dissented Tom. "I reckon change of scene and air is as good for us as it is for other folks."

"Tom wants to get where he can find more ba.s.s fis.h.i.+ng," Greg laughed.

"I've had enough of that sport to last me for one summer," retorted Reade.

The day was closing in a gorgeous sunset. In fifteen minutes more the sun would be down, but there would still be left the long July twilight.

"Did any of you ever see a more beautiful summer day than this has been?" asked Harry Hazelton presently.

"I haven't anything to offer in the line of such experience,"

Tom confessed.

"There are some days," Hazelton went on half dreamily, "that somehow makes a fellow feel thoroughly contented with himself."

"That's the way I feel to-night," Tom admitted, with an indolent air.

"I'd be contented if I knew one thing, and I suspect that you fellows might be able to tell me, if you only would."

None noticed the twinkle in Prescott's eyes as he spoke.

"I'll offer!" cried Tom good-humoredly. "If it's anything I can tell you, I'll do it."

"S-t-u-n-g!" spelled d.i.c.k slowly.

Tom suddenly sat up, glaring suspiciously at his chum.

"Now, what have I let myself in for?" demanded Reade.

"You gave your word you'd tell me, if you could, Tom," d.i.c.k went on, "and no one else can tell me nearly as well as you can. What I want to know is this: What happened to you, that night a few weeks ago, when you broke a bottle under my window, and then started down the street as fast as you could go with a crowd of Gridley folks behind you?"

"You promised!" chorused the other four boys.

"Well, if that isn't a low-down way to dig out of me what is purely my own business!" exclaimed Tom Reade, with a scowl.

Nevertheless Tom, like the other members of d.i.c.k & Co., had a high idea of the sacredness of his word, so, after a sigh, he went on:

"When I ran away from your window, d.i.c.k, with that pack of people behind me, I dashed into a full-fledged sc.r.a.pe that was none of mine. You know that Mr. Ritchie, whom some of the Central Grammar boys plague so fearfully, just because he always gets so mad and makes such threats against all boys in general?

"Well, it seems that, while I was helping Timmy Finbrink out of his difficulties, and afterwards tried to fool you with the fake window-breaking, some of the Central fellows had been down at Ritchie's playing tick-tack on one of his front windows. Tick-tack is a stupid game, and it got me into a mess that night.

"It seems that Mr. Ritchie had already been bothered that evening before the Central fellows began, and he had telephoned to a friend down the street who had two college boys visiting him. So the friend and the two college fellows went out, on their way to Mr.

Ritchie's. Then he heard the tapping on his window again, and Mr. Ritchie ran out through the front door. The fellows who had been doing the trick had just time to drop behind a flower bed.

"I had shaken off the crowd that started after me from Main Street, and had turned the corner down that side street. As luck would have it, I had just pa.s.sed the Ritchie gate when Mr. Ritchie opened his front door. He thought I was the offender, and started after me, yelling to me to stop. Just for the exercise I kept on running, though not so fast, for I wanted to see how far Mr. Ritchie would chase me. And then I ran straight into the friend and the two college boys.

"Those college boys tried to collar me. I was foolish enough to stop and tackle. I had one of them on his back, and was doing nicely with the other, when the two men joined in. I was down and being held hard, while Mr. Ritchie was threatening to have me sent to jail for life---for something I hadn't done, mind you!

"As I ran by the Ritchie yard I saw the three Central Grammar School boys hiding behind the flower bed. It made me mad, I suppose, to think that college boys, who aren't real men, anyway, should stoop so low as to try to catch a lot of grammar school prankers, so I fought back at my captors with some vim. Of course I got the worst of it, including the bruise on my cheek, but I mussed those two college boys up a bit, too. Then, when I got on my feet, the two college boys still holding me, I demanded virtuously to know what it was all about. Mr. Ritchie explained hot-headedly.

I told him I could prove that I had just come from Main Street, but my captors didn't let go of me until we came to Mr. Ritchie's.

Then I saw at a glance that the Central fellows had made a good get-away, so then I told Mr. Ritchie how the trick had been done against him. I showed him just how the string had been rigged, and pointed out the spot where the Central boys had flopped down behind the flower bed. Their footprints were there in the soil to show it. By this time all hands were ready to believe that a high school senior hadn't been up to such baby stuff, and Mr.

Ritchie apologized to me. I was pretty stiff about it, though, and told Mr. Ritchie that I would consult with my parents before I'd decide to let such an outrageous a.s.sault pa.s.s without making trouble for my a.s.sailants."

"What did your folks say about it?" pressed Danny Grin eagerly.

"Dalzell, aren't you the little innocent?" asked Reade, with good-humored scorn. "Of course I never said anything to my folks about such a foolish adventure as that. But I'll wager that I left Mr. Ritchie worried for just the next few days. Now, you fellows know the whole yarn---and I don't think much of d.i.c.k's way of buncoing me out of it, either."

"Don't all turn at once," said Dave in a very low tone, "but, behind you, through the fork in the cleft rock, the Man with the Haunting Face is staring this way. Be careful, and we may-----"

But, as if shot from spring guns, all five of the others were up on their feet and running fast toward that strange man who had furnished their lake mystery without solving it.

CHAPTER XXIII

"FOUR OF US ARE PIN-HEADS!"

"Oh, you fellows have spoiled it!" groaned Dave as he joined last of all in the chase.

From the tent to the cleft rock was perhaps a hundred and twenty yards.

For such sprinters as these members of the Gridley High School eleven it did not require much time to cover the distance. Yet, by the time that Danny Grin, in the lead, had reached the further side of the rock there was no sign of the presence of the Man with the Haunting Face.

"You dreamed it, Dave," charged Greg Holmes.

"No, I didn't, either," muttered Darrin, joining the group of puzzled youngsters. "I saw the face as plainly and positively as I see any of your faces."

"It's hard to believe that," muttered Tom, shaking his head.

"I was wide awake, and my eyesight is good," Darry insisted.

"Then where has your man gone?" asked d.i.c.k. "If he had run to any point near here we would have found him."

Dave Darrin began to pry about, looking for some concealed opening near the base of the cleft, rock. He explored diligently, but could find no such clue as he had hoped.

"Nonsense! I'm going back to camp," declared Tom Reade.

"So'm I," Hazelton agreed.

"Dave can't have been mistaken," offered Greg.

"Thank you for one trusting soul," said Dave gratefully.

"But one thing I do know," Greg went on.

"What?" asked Darry.