the name implies."

Then followed, for the benefit of the two latest arrivals, the
story of Tom's attempt in the rear of the Prescott bookstore.

Harry and Dalzell duly admired the bruise on Tom's face.

"Now, be a gentleman, Tom," urged Harry mischievously, "and let
us have a good, satisfying look at your skinned knuckles."

"Umph!" grunted Reade.

"Or, at least," pursued Harry relentlessly, "tell us just what
it was into which you ran to get such a mark on your face."

"Umph!" retorted Reade once more. "Danny, in the name of mercy,
take that grin of yours around the corner and lose it!"

"I'll try," promised Dan, "provided you'll tell us who caught
you last night, and why he punched your face."

But Tom, knowing that he had them all wild with curiosity, refused
to reveal the secret.

"Now, let's get back to the big fishing trip," begged Greg Holmes.
"Dick, what's the plan?"

"We start to-morrow," Prescott rejoined.

"Humph!" grunted Holmes. "We knew that all along. What we want