“I like hard cases,” grinned Wally. “Blackie is crazy about swimming; guess I can get him interested through that, and the old camp spirit is bound to follow. Well, let’s get back.”
The two men, arm in arm, disappeared down the path. Blackie Thorne, in his hidden covert, laughed unpleasantly at their backs.
“Hard case, am I?” he said to himself. “Well, Mr. Smart Wally, if you call me that, I guess all I can do is to try and live up to it!”
CHAPTER V
TREASURE
“This chain gang ain’t so bad,” remarked Gallegher.
It was after breakfast on Monday morning. He and Blackie, as well as three other culprits, were chopping wood behind the camp kitchen with the supervision and assistance of Jim Avery, a tall, gangling councilor who was a specialist in woodcraft and bird-study.
Blackie split up a knotty stick of oak before replying.
“Sure, this ain’t such hard work. The leader does half of it, anyway. Say, you were pretty good, to cuss right in front of Wally the other night.”
“Aw, that’s nothin’. I guess I’m pretty tough, all right. I used to go down by the railroad lots of times and hook rides on the freight cars. Once I bummed clear out to Scranton and back, that way.”
“Gee! No wonder the Chief said you was a hard case!”