They were soon at a point on the lakeshore where only a thin fringe of bushes and trees separated them from what had once been a pasture lot belonging to a small farm. Here they discovered half a dozen of the Longley cadets enjoying a game of baseball with two boys batting and the others in the field.
“There is Tommy Flanders,” said Fred, in a low tone as they brought their rowboat to a standstill. “He’s at the bat!”
“And there is Billy Sands on first, and Halliday is pitching.”
“Codfish is in the field. There is the fellow they called Fiddler, too.”
Flanders, who had just had two strikes called on him, now knocked a ball well out in the field and began to run to first base, and then back to home. Codfish tried to catch the ball, but missed it and went sprawling on the grass.
“Good work, Tommy!” cried one of the boys, as the runner came in.
“Hello! what are you fellows doing here?” came a sudden cry from the brushwood. “If it isn’t the fellows from Colby Hall! What do you know about that?”
The speaker was a Longley boy named Bob Mason whom Jack and Gif knew fairly well. He had been tramping along the shore looking for a good place to fish. He carried a fishing pole in one hand and a can of bait in the other.
“Oh, we just thought we’d take a little row,” answered Gif pleasantly. “We get tired of sticking in one place.”