“Well, I don’t think I’ll wait to see,” growled Larry.
“This isn’t anything,” said Tom Clifton. “And I’ll bet it isn’t going to be a bit hotter. Besides, when a chap’s on a roughing-it expedition he’s got to expect all sorts of things.”
“Another lecture from the scout-master,” grinned Larry.
“And if he can’t stand ’em, and gets grumpy and sour-faced he ought to stay at his own cozy little home.”
“Mercy! I suppose a broadside like that ought to bowl me right over,” said Larry. “When you get to be a doctor, Tom, you’re likely to scare your patients into recovering fast.”
Tom, with a shrug of his shoulders, turned toward Dave Brandon, the first to tether his horse and find a comfortable resting place. “Why so quiet, Dave? What are you thinking about?” he inquired.
The chronicler of the Rambler Club’s adventures made no reply until the others were sprawling in various attitudes in the most inviting places they could find. Then he said, slowly:
“Thinking about something serious, Tom.”
“Do let your musings find expression in words,” grinned Clifton.
“Well, you know, we graduated at the Kingswood High School last term——”