The High School Boys Fishing Trip | Page 5

up, as he has charge of the
arrangements," Greg made answer. "Oh, my! But I'm getting anxious to
see the fish nibble."
"I thought you didn't care especially about fishing," Dave murmured,
regarding his friend.
"Probably, as far as mere fishing goes, I don't care so very much,"
young Holmes assented. "But when fishing means weeks of outdoor
life, free from the noise and dust of the town---then I'm simply wild
about fishing as an excuse for getting away. Probably at the end of our
fun we'll all be so sick of fish, from having had to eat so much of it,
that any one of us will run away and hide when we suspect that the
home folks are planning to send us on errands to a fish store. It would
be all the same to me if we were going clamming, or hunting, or on any
other kind of expedition, as long as it brought us to life under canvas
and sleeping in the very place where pure, fresh air is made. Here
comes Dick now!"
Young Prescott came swiftly up to his friends.
"Well, I think I've gotten about everything fixed," Dick announced.
"Tell us all the plans," urged Greg eagerly.
"What's the matter with waiting until all the other fellows show up?"
Prescott inquired. "That will save me from having to go twice over the
same ground. While we're waiting I'll tell you Tom Reade's latest one."
"A funny trick?" queried Greg.
"Needless question!" rebuked Dave Darrin. "Tell us about the latest one,
Dick."
Thereupon the leader of Dick & Co. told of Tom's scheme for making

people think one of their windows broken.
"Did it sound real?" Dave demanded.
"Did it?" inquired Dick. "It fooled me. I thought surely that our rear
store window had been smashed to pieces. The sound is as natural as
any joker could wish. But I haven't told you the other half of the story."
Thereupon Dick told about the pitcher of water dumped so unerringly
on Tom, and of Reade's flight with the crowd pursuing him.
"I'd like to have been near enough to hear just what Tom said when the
water struck him," laughed Darrin.
"Did the people running after him catch him?" asked Greg.
"I don't believe so," Dick Prescott smiled. "When Tom gets under way
in earnest, his middle name, as you may have observed, is Double
Speed---and then a bit more."
"Who's talking about me?" gruffly demanded Reade, coming up behind
the group. "Dick, you old rascal! That was a mean trick you played
upon me when you hurled that water down on me last night! But say,
didn't it sound just like a three dollar pane of glass going to pieces?"
"It certainly did," laughed Prescott. "And by the way, Tom, did the
water, when it struck, make you think at all about what you've read of
Niagara Falls?"
"Hang you!" grumbled Tom, shaking a fist. "Why did you pour the wet
stuff on me like that?"
"Because I was fooled myself," Dick promptly rejoined. "I thought
some rascal was plotting mischief to the store. I wanted to mark that
rascal with a suit of wet clothes, then run down in the street and collar
him with his wet clothes on as a marker. But Dad called me back, and
so I missed you. I heard the crowd after you, however. Did you get
caught, Tom?"

Reade's answer was something of a growl.
"What happened between you and the crowd?" pressed Darrin, scenting
some news from Reade's mysterious, half-sulky manner.
"Never you mind," Tom growled.
"Don't tell us," Dick urged. "We can guess a few things, anyway.
You've a bruised spot over your left cheek bone that looks like the
mark of a punch on the face."
"Go ahead and tell us what happened, Tom," urged Greg.
Reade only scowled.
"Anyway, you must have avenged yourself," Dick smiled. "Just look at
the way the knuckles of your right hand are skinned. You certainly hit
someone hard."
Tom flushed quickly as he glanced at the knuckles in question, then
thrust his right hand into his pocket with an air of indifference.
"Be a good fellow and tell us the finish of the adventure," begged
Darrin.
"Certainly," grinned Reade. "The end of my adventure was-----"
"Yes, yes!" pressed Greg, as Tom hesitated.
"The end of the adventure came," Tom continued maliciously, "when I
turned out the gas in my little room and hopped into bed. I slept like a
top, thank you."
"Now, now, now!" Dick warned him. "Thomas, you're hiding
something from us!"
"If I am, it's my own business, and I've a right to hide it," retorted Tom,
smiling once more, though still uncommunicative.

At this moment Hazelton and Dan Dalzell, otherwise known as Danny
Grin, came