"What is it?" whispered Darrin, stepping close.
"Fred Ripley, Bert Dodge and some of their fellows," Dick whispered, at the same time pointing through the leaves.
"Well, we don't have to halt, just because they're around," retorted Darrin, snorting. "If they try to pick any trouble with us we can give 'em as good as they send. We've done it once or twice already."
"But we don't want to go to fighting on Sunday, if there's any way to avoid it," young Prescott urged, at which four of his chums nodded their heads approvingly.
"I'm not looking for any fight, either," muttered Dave. "Yet it goes against the grain to halt just in order to let that gang slip by without seeing us."
"There are five of us against your single vote, Darry," Dick reminded him. "Let us have our way."
"Well, we don't need to skulk, do we?" queried Dave.
"Oh, no," Dick assured him. "All we will do is to keep quiet and not bring on a fight with that tough lot."
"Huh!" muttered Darrin, as though he could not see the difference between that and skulking.
Presently, after holding a hand behind him to signal silence and stealth, Prescott started on in the lead. He wanted, if possible, to see just where Ripley, Dodge and their crowd went, so that the Grammar School boys would not run too suddenly into them. The "Co." trailed on in Indian file behind their leader.