s snowbound in one of the greatest
blizzards that had happened in that section in years. Being
hardy boys from much outdoor life, however, Dick & Co., as our
readers know, turned hardship into jolly fun, and incidentally
made a great discovery in the woods that turned their camping
expedition into the local sensation of the hour. The reader also
remembers how some of the poorer specimens of High School boys
and a few local young "toughs," under the leadership of Fred Ripley
and Bert Dodge, tried to drive them from their forest camp.

In the third volume of the series, "_The Grammar School Boys In
The Woods_," Dick Prescott and his chums, each now fourteen years
of age, found the most startling of all the exciting happenings
that had been crowded into their short lives. How they came upon
two dangerous, tattered specimens of humanity in the woods, how
these two contrived to make Dick and Greg take unwilling part
in an attempt to rob one of the local banks, the mystery of the
haunted schoolhouse, and a host of other lively incidents---all
these are so familiar to the reader of these volumes as to need
no repetition. And Dick & Co., through the series of exciting
adventures they had encountered, had become the best-known boys
in and around the little city of Gridley. Being leaders of other
boys, they had naturally made some enemies, but that is to be
expected in the case of all who are born to lead, or who fit themselves
for leadership.

And now, on this glorious June Sunday afternoon, we find our schoolboy
friends enjoying the sacred day quietly, yet looking forward to
the opening of the contests on the diamond between the three local
Grammar Schools, the North, Central, and South Grammars.

The road they had chosen on this Sunday afternoon was one over
which they had seldom traveled. It was not the road to Norton's
Woods, to the great forest, nor yet the one that went by the "haunted
schoolhouse." It was in a wholly different direction from Gridley.

"It's a long way home, this," complained Tom Reade, as the boys
plodded along the dusty highway. "And I'm hungry."

"Hungry?" snorted Darrin. "Of course you are. You fellows sang
a verse to me a while ago. Tom, how do you and your fellow-porkers
like this lay?"

Taking a deep breath, Dave started to sing a travesty, to the
air of "America."

_"My stomach, 'tis of thee,
Sweet gland of gluttony,
To thee I sing! Gland---"_

"Stop it," ordered Tom threateningly, as