Dick saw it, of course, and felt a curious thrill when he saw his own name in big block type. The names of Dave and Greg were also there.
"I'll read the yarn to you while you eat," smiled his father. "This is a great day for you, lad. You're tasting, for the first time, the sensation of looming large in the public eye."
Dick read the story over twice for himself before starting for school. Yet the first thrill was missing.
"Pshaw! Len Spencer, or someone, has made a hero tale out of a boys' lark," muttered the Grammar School boy. "It sounded fine, at first, but that just shows how ready a fellow is to believe he's smarter than other folks. Whee! But we'll get a choice lot of teasing out of the fellows at school to-day!"
Prescott was glad, that morning, that he contrived to pick up Dave and Greg on the way to school.
"Get yourselves braced," Dick warned his friends. "All the fellows will be out to roast us for being 'heroes.' Oh, we'll catch it."
No sooner had the three turned the corner that led down to the school than one of their class-mates "spotted" them.
"Here come Dick & Co!" roared the discoverer. "Turn out! Give 'em a welcome! Dick & Co.—lost children trapped and trained! See the real, bony-fido heroes! 'Ray! Now, then, altogether—ouch!"
The spouter found himself suddenly flat on his back on the sidewalk, having been sent there by a vigorous trip from Tom Reade.
"All that ails you, Hen Dutcher, is that you didn't get your name in the paper," called Tom denouncingly. "But you will, one of these days. It'll be in the police-court news, though. Sixty days for vagrancy!"