e story-teller and pushed
him from the gravel path to the green lawn. Then followed something of a
wrestling match, all the lads taking part.
"Let up, will you!" panted Shadow, breaking away at last. "I won't tell
any stories if you don't want to listen to 'em. But just the same, that
story about the Irishmen was a good one. And that about the fellow who
went to see the girl at five o'clock is a corker. You see his watch had
stopped and he----"
"Jump him!"
"He can't stop, no matter how hard he tries!"
"Let's stand him on his head and make him tell it backwards!"
Again there was a rush, but this time poor Shadow took to his heels and
rushed up on the piazza, just as the door opened and Mrs. Morr came out
to greet the boys.
"Roger!" exclaimed the lady of the mansion, turning to her son, "what in
the world----"
"Only a little horse-play, Mom," replied the son, with a smile. "We are
so glad to see the fellows that we have to let off a little steam."
"It looked like a fight to me."
"Oh, nothing like that, Mrs. Morr," said Dave, quickly. "Only fun; isn't
that so, fellows?"
"Of course!" was the quick reply.
"Have you met Luke and Shadow, Mom?" asked Roger.
"Yes, about an hour ago. I told them that you had telephoned that you
were on the way home, so they said they'd remain out here, watching for
you. I showed them what room they were to occupy," added the lady of the
mansion.
"Fine!" cried Roger. "I'll put the car away for the present, and then
we'll fix up for dinner and listen to those stories Shadow had to tell."
"Somebody said Buster Beggs was coming," said Luke.
"Yes, he'll be here the night before the Fourth."
Quarter of an hour later found the whole crowd of boys upstairs in the
house. In anticipation of the Fourth of July party, as she called it,
Mrs. Morr had turned over one wing of the second floor of the big house
to the youths. There they could "cut up" to their hearts' content.
"Say, this is something like old times at Oak Hall!" cried Phil, as the
youths gathered in one of the bedrooms and proceeded to distribute
themselves in various attitudes on the chairs and the bed. "Somehow, I
think we are going to miss that school!"
"Miss it! Well I guess yes!" answered Dave. "And that puts me in mind of
something. I was thinking----"
"Whoop! Is he going to tell stories, too?"
"Say, Dave, that act belongs to Shadow."
"No, I wasn't going to tell a story," answered Dave. "I've
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