Prescott suggested. "Then we'll turn back. While we're out we
may get some idea of whether there's a swimming place nearer than
three miles from camp."

Neither felt in the least footsore. Indeed, these two hardy high
school boys thoroughly enjoyed their tramp in this cooler part
of the twenty-four hours.

"I wish we could live outdoors all the time," murmured Darrin,
as he filled his lungs with the fine night air.

"A lot of folks have felt that way," smiled Dick. "The idea is
all right, too, only the work of the civilized world couldn't
be carried on by a lot of tramps without homes or places of business."

"I've heard, or read," Darry went on, "that a tramp, after one
season on the road, is rarely ever reclaimed to useful work.
I think I can understand something of the fascination of the life."

"I can't see any fascination about being a tramp," Prescott replied
judicially. "First of all, he becomes a vagabond, who prefers
idleness to work. Then, too, he becomes dirty, and I can't see
any charm in a life that is divorced from baths. From mere idleness
the tramp soon finds that petty thieving is an easy way to get
along. If I were going to be a thief at all, I'd want to be an
efficient one. No stealing of wash from a clothes-line, or of
pies from a housekeeper's pantry, when there are millions to be
stolen in the business world."

"Now, you're laughing at me," uttered Dave.