The High School Boys' Fishing Trip Part 3

But say, didn't it sound just like a three dollar pane of gla.s.s 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," d.i.c.k 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," d.i.c.k 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," d.i.c.k 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!" d.i.c.k 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 up. They, too, had to hear all about the bottle-breaking trick.

"How did you ever come to think of a thing like that, Tom?" asked Harry Hazelton.

"I thought of it before I tried it out at d.i.c.k's," Reade rejoined, and explained how he had helped Timmy Finbrink out of a sc.r.a.pe.

"What did you say the fellow's name is, Tom?" d.i.c.k asked.

"His name is Timmy Finbrink," Reade rejoined, "and he looks the part. Just one glance at Timmy, and you know that he's all that the name implies."

Then followed, for the benefit of the two latest arrivals, the story of Tom's attempt in the rear of the Prescott bookstore.

Harry and Dalzell duly admired the bruise on Tom's face.

"Now, be a gentleman, Tom," urged Harry mischievously, "and let us have a good, satisfying look at your skinned knuckles."

"Umph!" grunted Reade.

"Or, at least," pursued Harry relentlessly, "tell us just what it was into which you ran to get such a mark on your face."

"Umph!" retorted Reade once more. "Danny, in the name of mercy, take that grin of yours around the corner and lose it!"

"I'll try," promised Dan, "provided you'll tell us who caught you last night, and why he punched your face."

But Tom, knowing that he had them all wild with curiosity, refused to reveal the secret.

"Now, let's get back to the big fishing trip," begged Greg Holmes.

"d.i.c.k, what's the plan?"

"We start to-morrow," Prescott rejoined.

"Humph!" grunted Holmes. "We knew that all along. What we want are the particulars in detail."

"In the next place, then," d.i.c.k replied, "we shall devote a good deal of our time, while away, to the pleasurable excitement of fishing."

"Perhaps you won't be able to get away," Greg retorted, "if you go on stringing us in that fashion. I warn you that we're becoming impatient."

"That's right," nodded Dave Darrin. "Get down to actual particulars, d.i.c.k."

"Well, then," Prescott resumed, "we meet at the same old grocery store in the morning. There we stock up with food."

"Are we going to hire a horse and wagon for transporting our tent, cots, bedding and food?" Dan asked.

"No," d.i.c.k replied. "I've been thinking that over, and the funds won't stand it. So I've rented a push cart for two dollars.

We can keep it as long as we need it. The tent, folding cots, blankets, pillows and kitchen utensils will go on the cart."

"Do we have to push that cart?" demanded Danny Grin, looking displeased.

"We do, if we want the cart to go along with us," d.i.c.k admitted.

Danny Grin groaned dismally as he remarked:

"That one detail of the arrangements just about spoils all the pleasure of the trip, then."

"No, it won't," d.i.c.k reported promptly. "I've looked into that.

The wheels are well greased---the axles, I mean. I've loaded the cart with more weight than we shall put on it, and it pushes along very easily. If we come to a bad stretch of road, then two fellows can manage the cart at a time. The scheme saves us a lot of expense, fellows."

"Will all the food go on the cart, tool" asked Dave.

"Each one of us can carry some of the food," d.i.c.k replied.