“It is a dandy place, all right,” admitted Dick. “For one, I’d like to spend a week or so up there on Bass Island. But there isn’t much chance of our getting there on this trip, I’m afraid.”
The fire being now a thing of the past, the boys started for home. The last they saw of Mr. Bratton he was counting his pigs, and declaring he would have the law on any one found guilty of trying to harbor one of the escaped animals. More or less sly laughter was being indulged in by the spectators, who seemed rather well pleased at the calamity that had befallen their quarrelsome neighbor.
“You see none of the other nine has showed up to finish the game,” remarked Dick, shortly afterwards, as they neared the ball ground; “so we’ll have to call it a draw. See you this evening at the meeting, fellows. So long!”
CHAPTER III
THE BOY WHO HAD PROMISED
One night a week the boys comprising the Junior Department of the local Y. M. C. A. held a meeting in the room in the building Cliffwood’s citizens had presented to the organization that was doing so much good work for young men in the community.
On certain afternoons they were also allowed free use of the gymnasium. A comparatively new swimming pool was enjoyed by many after they had exercised. Then there was a bowling alley, and some of the more expert among the boys ran up pretty high scores.
On the night after the ball game on the commons and the fire at the Bratton barn, the boys commenced gathering before the time appointed for the special meeting to take place. Little knots talked seriously as they came together, for it was known that Dick meant to bring with him a report of the success or failure attending their efforts to secure the camping grounds owned by a Mr. Marley on the small lake named after him.
“Some of you fellows,” Dan Fenwick was saying to a group around him, “who didn’t happen to be at the ball game to-day will be interested to know that Dick says we’re going to have a football eleven this fall, to try to hold up the honor of Cliffwood with the rest of the towns around this end of the woods.”
“Glad to hear that, Dan!” exclaimed one lad, warmly.
“Always said we ought to do something to show our colors,” added another. “And it’s come all because of Mr. Howell and his scheme for getting up this Boys’ Department of the Y. M. C. A. That’s done the trick! You don’t run across many fellows loafing on the street corners these nights. They’d rather be in here reading the magazines, or taking part in some of the things that are going on every little while.”