When finally the ordinary routine of business had been brought to a hurried conclusion Elmer Jones was on his feet with a motion.
“I move, Mr. President,” he said, with a broad smile, “that we proceed to the most important matter that engages our attention just now and hear the report of the committee appointed to find a camp-site for the club.”
“Second the motion!” exclaimed Phil Harkness. “Although there’s little need of it,” he went on, “because hearing the report of any committee comes under the head of business.”
Dick knew the boys were anxious to learn whether he had met with success. He hated to disappoint them, but it seemed as though nothing else could be done.
“I took a whole lot of my time to-day running around, making inquiries of different people who might know of something we could get,” he announced. “But so far there’s nothing in sight worth having. Mr. Truesdale said he wouldn’t object if we camped in his woods as long as we behaved, and didn’t leave any fires burning when we went away from camp. But you all know the Truesdale woods, boys.”
“Poor place, where they used to have the Sunday School picnics some years,” ventured one boy. There was a look of disgust on his face as he spoke, as though he were thinking it would be much too tame for them to spend a whole week on the spot where children came to picnic.
“And too near town besides,” added Dan Fenwick. “When we camp out it’s got to be far away from home, and in a regular wilderness. That’s what makes it feel like the real thing. Huh! I’d as soon put up a tent in our back yard, and stick it out there for a week, as go to that old Truesdale wood.”
Dick laughed at the vigor of these replies, though he had fully anticipated hearing something of the sort.
“Perhaps some one else has had the good luck to get track of a place,” he went on to remark. “If so, don’t be backward about coming forward. We’d like to hear what you’ve done, even if it was only to meet with disappointment as I did.”
Clint Babbett jumped to his feet, saying: