"It starts down here, just a little way," Prescott answered.
"I'll turn in when we come to the right place."
Dick and Darrin were now walking side by side in advance. Right behind them came Greg and Dan, while Tom and Harry, paired, brought up the rear.
"In this way," called Dick, turning sharply to the left and going in under an archway of trees. It was over velvety grass that he led his chums at first. After something like an eighth of a mile the Grammar School boys came to deeper woods, where they had to thrust branches aside in making their way through the tangle.
"My Sunday suit will look like a hand-me-down by the time I get home," muttered Greg Holmes.
"It does now," Dave called back to him consolingly.
"We suspected that Darry's grouch was due to dyspepsia," laughed Holmes. "Now I am sure of it. David, little giant, take my advice—-fast to-night."
"I will, if the rest of you fellows will," challenged Darrin quickly.
"The truth is out," Tom burst out laughing. "Darry, by that slip of the tongue you admitted that you've been eating too much and that you're all out of sorts."
Dave did not deny. He merely snorted, from which sign of defiance his chums could gain no information.
They had gone another quarter of a mile through the woods when Dick, now alone in the lead, suddenly halted, holding up one hand as a signal to halt, while he rested the fingers of his other hand over his lips as a command for silence.