ifteen minutes."

"By the way, Mr. Pollock," the sub-master went on, "what do you
think of Dick's latest feat?"

"Which one?"

"His fine work over on the Tottenville road this afternoon?"

"I haven't heard of it," replied Mr. Pollock, opening his eyes.

"Come to think of it," rejoined John Luce, "and knowing young
Prescott as I do, I don't suppose you have heard of it---not from
Prescott, at all events."

Then the sub-master told the story of the burning load of hay
in a way that made the "Blade's" editor reach hastily for pencil
and paper that he might take notes.

"That's just the kind of story that Dick Prescott never could
be depended upon to bring in here---if he was the central character
in it," observed the editor quietly.

Despite the failure of Dick to bring in this particular story,
however, the "Blade," the next morning, printed more than a column
from the data furnished by Mr. Luce.

Dick, however, didn't hear of it---in Gridley. It was Harry Hazelton,
who, at four o'clock, mounted a horse he had hired for the trip
and rode over to Tottenville, where the camp wagon was obtained
from Mr. Newbegin Titmouse. Hazelton wasted no time on the road,
but drove as fast as the horse could comfortably travel.

It was but a few minutes after six o'clock, that August morning,
when Dick Prescott and his five chums, collectively famous as
Dick & Co., drove out of Gridley.

Harry Hazelton was now the driver, the other five high school
boys walking briskly just ahead of the wagon.

Mr. Titmouse's special vehicle carried all that Dick & Co. would
need in the near future, and the six boys were setting out on
what was destined to be their most famous vacation jaunt.

CHAPTER III

THE PEDDLER AND THE LAWYER'S HALF

Just before leaving Gridley, Greg Holmes had bought a copy of
the "Blade" from a newsboy.

Three miles out, the chums enjoyed their first halt.

"Ten minutes' rest under this tree," Dick announced, for already
the August morning sun was beating down upon them.

Greg drew out his copy of the newspaper, unfolding it.

"Say!" he yelled suddenly.

"Stop that," commanded Tom Reade, "or you'll make the horse run
away and wreck our outfit."

"But this paper says-----"

"Stop it," ordered Tom with a scowl. "I know what you're going
to do. You'll read us some exciting stuff, and get us all worked
up, and then in the last paragraph you'll stumble on the fact
that some well-known Tottenvi