Dick replied. "At least, that's what I judge from the map."

"There's the creek the bull-heads came from," suggested Hazelton
hopefully. "That's close at hand."

"I know it is," Dick replied, "but I've had a look at it. That
creek is both shallow and muddy. No sort of place for swimming."

One thing these Gridley High School boys had learned in the football
squad, and that was discipline. So, though there were some gloomy
looks, all remembered that Dick had been chosen trainer during
the hike, and that his word, in training matters, was to be their
law. So the tent came down, in pretty nearly record time, and
was loaded on the wagon. The horse was harnessed, also without
breakfast, and the party started down the road with Harry Hazelton
holding the reins.

"I hope it's a short two miles," growled Reade to Darrin.

"Humph! A fine Indian you'd make, Tom!" jibed Dave. "An Indian
is trained in being hungry. It's a part of the work that he has
to undergo before he is allowed to be one of the men of the tribe."

"That's just the trouble with me," Tom admitted. "I've never
been trained to be an Indian, and I am inclined to think that
it requires training, and a lot of it."

Outwardly Tom didn't "grump" any, but he made a resolve that,
hereafter, his voice would be strong for halting right on the
bank of a swimming place.