The High School Boys Fishing Trip | Page 9

can be there ahead of time, and have all the lines laid."
"Somehow," sounded Dave Darrin's voice, "I have a hunch, fellows,
that we're going to have the finest time we ever had in our lives."
"We would have," sighed Tom Reade, "if it weren't for that push cart."
"At four o'clock this afternoon, then, and be prompt," called Dick,
preparing to leave the others.
"Wait a moment," urged Dave.
"What's the matter?" inquired Dick, halting.
"Tom's just on the point of telling us what really happened to him last
night," smiled Darry.
"Humph!" grunted Reade, walking briskly away.
"I can tell what's going to happen to 'em all on some other nights,"
whispered Bert Dodge in his friend's ear.
"To get square with those muckers, who drove us out of Gridley High
School and out of town is my only excuse for living at present," sniffed
Bayliss.

CHAPTER III
DICK & CO. DRIVEN UP A TREE
"Dick!"
"Yes?" replied Prescott, turning and looking back at Tom, whose turn it
now was to furnish motive power to the loaded cart.
"How far did you say it was from Gridley to the second lake?" asked
Reade.
"Sixteen miles."
"I've pushed the cart more than that far already," grunted Tom. "I'm
willing to wager that the lake is more than a hundred and twenty miles
from Gridley."
"Suppose it is," scoffed Dave, falling back beside the cart "Tom, just
think of the fine training your back muscles are getting out of this
work!"
"I'll tell you all about that, Darry," grumbled Reade, "when you've had
your turn for ten minutes. How much longer does my turn run, Dick?"
"Five minutes," replied Prescott, after glancing at his watch. "Are you
going to be able to hold out that long?"
"Yes; if I live that long," sighed Tom.
Dick and Hazelton had each taken their fifteen minute turns at pushing
the cart. The boys had already put some distance between themselves
and Gridley. Dick & Co. were tramping down a well-shaded road
bounded by prosperous-looking farms. Two miles further on the boys
would branch off through a long stretch of woods where the road was
rougher. Here two youngsters would be needed for the work, one
pushing, while the other hauled on a rope made fast to the front of the
cart.

Five of the boys were well laden with miscellaneous packages of food.
Tom, on account of pushing the cart, had been permitted to place his
load on the already well-packed cart.
"Time's up," called Dick. "Dave to the bat."
Smiling, Darry packed his own parcels in the cart.
"Whew! But it's good to get away from that thing," grunted Reade,
mopping his forehead, as he stalked on ahead.
"Here, you, Tom!" called Danny Grin. "Take your personal pack off the
cart and tote it like the rest of us."
Reade turned a comically scowling face to Dalzell.
"Danny," he demanded rebukingly, "why couldn't you hold your
tongue?"
"Because, when I'm working hard, I don't like to see you shirk," replied
Dalzell with a complacent grin.
"But consider Darry," urged Reade. "Note how strong, lithe and supple
he is. Boy, he is much better fitted for pushing my personal pack on the
cart than I am for carrying it."
"Stick a pin in the chat, Tom," advised Darrin briefly, "and take your
truck off the cart. I want to begin enjoying myself."
"I'd carry twice as much as I have to, just for the sheer joy of hearing
you kick like a Texas maverick by the time you've had the cart handles
for two minutes," laughed Tom, as he took his own parcels off the cart.
"Now, David, little giant, let us see you buckle down to your task---like
a real or imitation man!"
Darry braced himself, gave a hitch, then started forward briskly.
"Get out of the way, you loiterers!" called Dave, overtaking Tom and
Greg and shoving the front end of the cart against them. "Don't block

the road!"
"That's what comes of hitching an express engine to a freight load,"
grunted Reade, as he made for the side of the road, brushing his
clothes.
There was bound to be a lot of "kicking" over the work of handling the
push cart, but Dick & Co. were in high spirits this hot July morning.
Weeks before, when first planning this trip, all had begun to "save up"
toward outfits of khaki, leggings and all, and blue flannel shirts. These
khaki clothes made the most serviceable of all camping costumes.
"I begin to feel like a soldier," laughed Dick contentedly.
"So do I," agreed Tom Reade. "I feel like a poor dub of a soldier who
has been sent to march across a continent on the line of the equator. I
believe eggs would cook