adventures they had encountered, had become the best-known boys
in and around the little city of Gridley. Being leaders of other
boys, they had naturally made some enemies, but that is to be
expected in the case of all who are born to lead, or who fit themselves
for leadership.

And now, on this glorious June Sunday afternoon, we find our schoolboy
friends enjoying the sacred day quietly, yet looking forward to
the opening of the contests on the diamond between the three local
Grammar Schools, the North, Central, and South Grammars.

The road they had chosen on this Sunday afternoon was one over
which they had seldom traveled. It was not the road to Norton's
Woods, to the great forest, nor yet the one that went by the "haunted
schoolhouse." It was in a wholly different direction from Gridley.

"It's a long way home, this," complained Tom Reade, as the boys
plodded along the dusty highway. "And I'm hungry."

"Hungry?" snorted Darrin. "Of course you are. You fellows sang
a verse to me a while ago. Tom, how do you and your fellow-porkers
like this lay?"

Taking a deep breath, Dave started to sing a travesty, to the
air of "America."

_"My stomach, 'tis of thee,
Sweet gland of gluttony,
To thee I sing! Gland---"_