o!"

"Who's there?" cried Dick, starting up.

Then, to the accompaniment of some giggling, came in feminine
tones, high-pitched, the famous battle yell of Gridley High School.

"T-E-R-R-O-R-S! Wa-ar! Fam-ine! Pes-ti-lence! That's us!
That's us! G-R-I-D-L-E-Y H.S! Rah! rah! rah! rah! _Gri-i-idley_!"

"A lot of mere girls trying themselves out as real war-whoop artists!"
uttered Reade in a tone of pretended disgust.

But Dick and Dave had jumped up, and were now running for the
road as fast as they could.

It was ten days after the last word from Tag Mosher. The officers
had been promptly notified by the messengers from Dick & Co.,
and presumably were still scouring the great stretches of forest,
though so far without result.

"How did we do it, boys?" called the laughing voice of Laura Bentley,
as Dick and Dave came in sight.

"Don't ask me!" begged Dave. "Girls never ought to try school
yells. They ought to content themselves with waving handkerchiefs."

"Mr. Smarty!" cried Clara Marshall.

All eight of the girls were now in the burned clearing, surrounding
the two boys laughingly, while Greg and Dan now ran up.

Out of the woods near the road came Dr. and Mrs. Bentley.

"Prescott," called the doctor, "we forgot to write and secure
your permission for this latest vagary of mine."

"I don't know what the vagary is, sir, but the permission is assured
in advance," laughed Dick. "What are you going to do, anyway,
sir?"

"I'm afraid the idea will bore you," laughed Dr. Bentley, "but
back in the road are the same two automobiles, also two two-horse
wagons, loaded to the gunwales, so to speak. We've brought two
small, portable houses, a couple of tents, a lot of bedding and
supplies, and other things needed, and we're going to try to pitch
a camp not too far from yours. Does the information convey any
jar to your spine?"

"Not a jar," answered Dick promptly, standing with his hat off
in the presence of Mrs. Bentley and the eight girls. "The only
thing I notice in the way of sensation over the news is a great
thrill of delight."

"It's a pity that Dave and some of the other boys couldn't find
their tongues and make as good use of them as Dick has just done,"
pouted Belle Meade.

"Dick Prescott is our captain, always," replied Darry, with a
comical sigh, "and his sway extends even to the point of his
bartering away our liberties."

"Let us go on, farther into the woods," urged Belle, tur