“Come ahead, Pinger; toddle,” said Bill Stiles.
“My legs are too tired,” grumbled Roy, seating himself on a stump. “Good thing we got grub in that farmhouse about ten miles back.”
In a few minutes Bob and his friends learned that the names of the other students were Grigsby, Cole, Dale and Andrews.
As they lolled around, the boys told him about their annual motor boat trip, and how on this occasion they had felt it their duty to look after the “poor Thornton chaps.”
“You’ll see ’em,” remarked Bill Stiles, “and meet a mighty cheeky fellow—Lon Bates is his name. Ready to skip now, Pinger?”
“Not yet,” answered Roy. “The charm of this moonlit scene holds me in its spell.”
“You mustn’t mind him,” said Stiles, with a laugh. “He’s been bitten by the writing bug, and practices on us; but his legs are weak.”
Many minutes passed and the boys still lingered, until a series of yells suddenly brought them to their feet.
“Those Thornton chaps, as sure as you live!” cried Roy Pinger, excitedly. “Listen!”
“Yelling again!” cried Stiles. “Wonder if anything’s up? We’ll soon find out.”