"He thinks his native town is a joke!" called Greg Holmes reproachfully.
"No," replied Dalzell, with a solemn shake of his head. "I am the joke, and it's on Gridley for being my native town."
"I'm glad to be back—-when I get there," announced Hazy. "I shall be glad, even if for nothing more than the chance to rest my feet."
"Nonsense!" Dick retorted. "You'll be out on Main Street, to-night, ready to tramp miles and miles, if anything amusing turns up."
At the first shade by the roadside Dick &. Co. halted for fifteen minutes to rest.
"Now, each one of you do a little silent thinking," Prescott urged.
"Give us the topic, then," proposed Reade.
"Fellows," Dick went on, mounting a stump and thrusting one hand inside his flannel shirt, in imitation of the pose of an orator, "the next year will be an eventful one for all of us. In that time we shall wind up our courses at the Gridley High School. From the day that we set forth from Gridley High School we shall be actively at work creating our careers. We are destined to become great men, everyone of us!"
"Tell that to the Senate!" mocked Tom Reade.
"Well, then," Dick went on, accepting the doubt of their future greatness, "we shall, at least, if we are worth our salt, become useful men in the world, and I don't know but that is very close to being great. For the man who isn't useful in the world has no excuse for living. Now, in a little more than another hour, we shall be treading the pavements of good old Gridley. Let us do it with a sense of triumph."