"It does now," Dave called back to him consolingly.

"We suspected that Darry's grouch was due to dyspepsia," laughed
Holmes. "Now I am sure of it. David, little giant, take my
advice---fast to-night."

"I will, if the rest of you fellows will," challenged Darrin quickly.

"The truth is out," Tom burst out laughing. "Darry, by that slip
of the tongue you admitted that you've been eating too much and
that you're all out of sorts."

Dave did not deny. He merely snorted, from which sign of defiance
his chums could gain no information.

They had gone another quarter of a mile through the woods when
Dick, now alone in the lead, suddenly halted, holding up one hand
as a signal to halt, while he rested the fingers of his other
hand over his lips as a command for silence.

"What is it?" whispered Darrin, stepping close.

"Fred Ripley, Bert Dodge and some of their fellows," Dick whispered,
at the same time pointing through the leaves.

"Well, we don't have to halt, just because they're around," retorted
Darrin, snorting. "If they try to pick any trouble with us we
can give 'em as good as they send. We've done it once or twice
already."