ton High
School "Indians." "We didn't mean to seem as rude as that, Prescott."

"All I know," smiled Dick cordially, "is that you are all heartily
welcome. Can we stir up a fire and broil some fish?"

"Don't think of it, thank you," begged Hartwell. "We've had our
suppers---dinners, the hotel folks insist on calling 'em. It's
jolly enough for us to be allowed to join you and see the watermelon
passing around."

"Chug! chug! Puff! puff!" sounded the returning launch. Dick
glanced apprehensively at Dr. Bentley and the ladies. Did the
coming of the launch mean that it was about time for the pleasant
evening to break up?

"Might I ask where and how you find such delicious watermelons
in this neck of the woods?" inquired Brown, of the Prestons.

"Ask the young ladies," piped up Danny Grin, thereby getting himself
much disliked for at least the next thirty seconds.

"Dr. Bentley and the young ladies obtained the melons from a farmer,"
explained Tom Reade, giving Dan an unseen poke in the small of
the back.

"These melons look good enough to steal," laughed Hartwell, and
was unable to understand the total silence that greeted his assertion.

"Help wanted from a couple of you boys!" called the voice of the
launch man.

Four of Dick & Co. raced down to the water's edge. They came
back, staggering under a big bucket covered on the top with bagging.

"What is this?" asked Dick.

"Ice cream," explained the doctor. "Mrs. Bentley's suggestion."

"We fellows of Preston High School feel ashamed of ourselves for
having intruded," exclaimed Hartwell. "May we be permitted to
withdraw?"

"At any time after ten o'clock," smiled Mrs. Bentley graciously.
"We shall be very much disappointed if you leave us at present."

There was a clatter of dishes and spoons. Mrs. Bentley and Mrs.
Meade presided over this part of the camp feast.

"We needn't ask you Gridley fellows if you've been having a good
time," declared Hartwell presently. "But we hadn't any idea that
we should intrude on an affair of this sort. In fact, while business
must be barred now, I will admit that business was the object
of our call."

"What sort of business?" inquired Dick Prescott.

"We came to challenge you fellows to a race," explained Big Chief
Hartwell.

"A race?" chuckled Dave. "Queer how you've bit us where we live!"

"Do you think you can beat us in a canoe race?" asked Hartwell.

"Yes," Dick rejoined. "All we need to arrang