ow.

"I hate to go away from this lake," muttered Dave.

"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 bass fishing," 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 Dick 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," Dick 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 Dick & 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, Dick, with that pack of people
behind me, I dashed into a full-fledged scrape 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 diffi