DICK MAKES FISH TALK

"That's the longest eight miles I've ever done," muttered Hazelton.

"The map is wrong.  It's a hundred and eight," affirmed Dave.

"No matter, if the trip turns out to have been wisely planned,"
remarked Dick, a wistful look coming into his eyes.  "Of course,
I may have overshot the mark."

"That's a chance we had to take," declared Dave promptly.  "We
won't be disappointed if we find that we haven't made such a big
move, after all."

The three high school boys had halted in the shade of some trees
by the highway.  A quarter of a mile away, around the head of
the body of water known as the third lake, stood a handsome hotel,
the St. Clair Lake House.

It was now nearly nine o'clock in the morning.  Dick and his two
comrades had been on the way, over the rough road, propelling
the heavily laden push cart, from which water now dripped from
melting ice.  The boys had built their ice-house, or ice-box,
whichever one preferred to call it, and they had stocked it with
ice from the cave.  Dick, Dave and Greg had whipped up and down
the stream in turn; Tom and Dan had trolled the lake for bass.
As fast as the fish were brought in they were stored on the ice.
After two days of hard fishing the boys arose before four o'clock
in the morning, for Dick was now ready to test his venture.

"Stay close by that box, Harry," warned Dick, as he took hold
of the handles of the push cart.

"Won't I, though?" Hazelton demanded.

Dick and Dave trudged onward, taking brief turns at the cart.
Thus they entered the hotel grounds at the rear, continuing until
they were close up to the rear porch.  Then Dick ascended the
steps and knocked at the door.  As no one answered, he stepped
into the corridor.

"What do you want here?" asked a well-dressed, portly man of fifty,
who stepped out of a nearby room.

"I would like to see the manager, or steward, sir," Prescott replied.

"We don't want any help," replied the man.

"I haven't any help to offer, sir," Dick smiled.  "Can I see the
steward, or the manager?"

"I'm the proprietor, if that will do," answered the man, giving
Dick a sharp look.  He saw that his youthful visitor was evidently
a well-bred boy, but that did not prove that Dick was not looking
for work.  College boys often serve as bell-boys or waiters at
summer hotels.

"If you will step outside then, a moment, sir," Prescott continued,
"I think I can show you the nicest lot of black bass you ever saw."

"A string of bass, eh?"

"No, sir; quite a load."

"I'll look at them," said the proprietor briefly.

When he saw the quantity of bass, and noted the plumpness of the
fish, the proprietor was more interested.  It is always a problem,
with a summer hotel, to serve enough novel food.  But the proprietor
offered less than half the price Dick named.  The high school
boy, however, stuck to his price.

"I can't deal with you, then," said the owner, with a shake of
the head, starting to reenter the hotel.

"The Kelway House is about a mile and a half below here, isn't
it, sir?" asked Prescott, preparing to push the cart along.

"Yes; but they won't buy fish at that price."

"I'll try them, anyway, sir.  Thank you for the trouble you've
taken for me.  Good morning, sir."

"Hold on, there," interrupted the hotel proprietor.  "Perhaps
I can offer you a little more."

In his own mind the hotel man was determined that the rival Kelway
House should not have the chance to serve these bass.

More haggling followed, but Dick stuck to his price.  In the end
he got it.  Scales were brought and the fish weighed.  The total
came to eighteen dollars and thirty-three cents.

"I suppose an even eighteen dollars will satisfy you?" asked the
hotel man.

"Yes, sir," admitted the greatly delighted Prescott.

While the money was being counted over, Dave slipped away with
the push cart.

"In about ten minutes, sir," said Dick, after he had pocketed
the money and had thanked the hotel man, "I'll have something
else to show you."

"What?" asked the man, eyeing Dick keenly.

"Now, if you don't mind, sir," coaxed Dick, with a smile, "I'd
rather not destroy, in advance, the keen delight you're going
to feel when you see the next cartload."

"How many of these cartloads have you lying around?" asked the
proprietor quickly.

"The next one will be also the last, sir.  May I call you out
when my friends get here with it?"

"I---I guess so," assented the hotel man, and then went inside.
Dick found a seat on a nearby bench and waited.

Dave and Harry presently came along with the cart.  Dick once
more went after his prospective purchaser.

"What have you now---more bass?" asked the hotel man, eyeing the
heavy box on the cart.  Water was dripping from the ice and running
to the ground.

"No, sir; just look!" begged Prescott, lifting some jute bagging
from the top of the box, then  digging down through the top layer
of cracked ice.

"Brook trout?" cried the hotel man.  "Where on earth did you get
them?"

"We have a factory where we turn 'em out nights, sir," volunteered
Dave, with a grin.

"What do you want for them---same price as for the bass?" demanded
the proprietor.

"We could hardly afford to do that, you know," Prescott replied.
"Down in a town like Gridley these brook trout ought to retail
for a dollar and a half a pound.  We'll offer them to you, sir,
at sixty cents a pound---flat."

"Take 'em away!" ordered the hotel man, with an air of finality.
This time it was plain that he did not propose to purchase.

"You won't be sorry after we're gone, will you?" asked Dick politely.

"I can't afford to put sixty-cents-a-pound fish on my bill of
fare," said the hotel man.

At this moment two well-dressed, prosperous-looking, middle-aged
men came strolling around the corner of the building.  As Dick
was about to cover his fish one of them caught sight of the speckled
beauties, and stopped short.

"Hello!  Aren't these fine, Johnson?" the man demanded of the
proprietor.  "Going to buy these trout for the hotel?"

"I can't afford to put such costly fish on the bill of fare,"
replied Johnson candidly.

"Man, you don't have to," replied the other.  "Send these trout
to the grill-room ice-box.  Let guests who want brook trout order
them as extras.  Why, I'll eat a few of these myself, if you serve
'em."

"Certainly," nodded the other man.

Proprietor Johnson had caught a new idea from the suggestion of
serving the trout as an "extra" in the grill-room of the hotel.
All of a sudden he began to scent a profit.

"All right, young man," smiled Mr. Johnson.  "Begin to unload.
I'll have the scales brought out again."

The weight proved to be a little over one hundred pounds.  Dick
accepted an even sixty dollars, while Harry Hazelton nearly strangled
himself in his efforts to keep from cheering lustily.

This money, too, was counted out.

"Are you going to bring any more fish this way?" asked Mr. Johnson.

"I can hardly say as to that, sir," Dick hesitated.

"If you do, I can't agree positively to buy, but I'll be glad,
anyway, if you'll give me the first chance.  I will see how these
trout 'go' in the grill-room in the meantime."

"We'll give you the first call, sir," Dick nodded.  "Thank you
very much for this morning's business."

"That boy is a budding merchant," thought Johnson, staring after
Dick as the three high school boys trundled their cart away.
But in this estimate the hotel man chanced to be wrong.

"Let's hurry up and get away from the hotel---a long way off,"
urged Hazelton.

"Why?" asked Dave.  "It was a fine place---for us."

"Yes; but I want to yell, with all my might," Darry declared.
"Seventy-eight dollars---think of it!"

"Nothing to get excited about," Dick declared calmly.

"When did we ever make so much money in life same time before?"
blurted Hazelton.

"Never, perhaps," Prescott admitted.  "We made money, this time,
because we had something that everyone wants, and the supply of
which isn't large.  We would have made far more money if we had
had a cart full of diamonds in the rough."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Hazelton.  "We don't know
where to find diamonds."

"I didn't say that we did," Dick rejoined.  "But we had something
that is rare, and in demand.  The rarer a thing is that everyone
wants the better price can be had for it.  The bass didn't bring
anywhere near as much money as the trout, just because people
don't call for black bass as much as they will for brook trout."

They were entering the little village beyond the hotel.  They
had to go there in order to mail their letters, for all the boys
had taken advantage of this opportunity to write home.

"We'll be nervous with this seventy-eight dollars in camp, in
addition to the few other dollars we have," Dave suggested.

"We won't keep a lot of money in camp," Dick replied.  "I'm going
to buy a money order for seventy-five dollars, payable to myself,
and send it to my father to hold for me until we get back.  Then
I'll cash the order in Gridley and turn the money into our common
fund."

"And we'll add to that fund," proposed Hazelton eagerly.

"If the bass and the trout hold out," supplemented Dick.

"Say, wouldn't it be mighty nice if only we could get some home
letters here?" asked Hazelton, as the three left the cart at the
curb and turned to enter the post-office.

"We can look for home letters on our next trip here," Dick suggested.
"On Tom's, Greg's and Dan's letters I'm going to add a note on
the outside of the envelope to the effect that letters may be
sent to this office for us.  And I'm going to add a postscript
to my letter to my father and mother.  You fellows had better
do the same thing."

Dick's first move was to get a money order blank and fill out
his application.  Then all hands attended to their postscripts.

This done they went outside.

"There's a little grove down that street," said Dave, pointing.
"Why not go down there and take a brief nap?"

"I want a long one," Dick laughed.  "Traveling over that road
was harder work than I've ever done on the football field."

Their nap lasted until a little after noon.

"Whee!  But I'm hungry," grumbled Hazelton.

"I think we may feel justified in finding a restaurant, and getting
a good meal," assented Dick.

"I want a steak for mine," proposed Darry.  "It seems a year since
we've had one."

"Great idea!" nodded Dick.  "And, while we're about it, we'll
get steaks and some stewing meat the last thing before we leave
town and take it back to the fellows.  We've had so much fish
that red meat will hit a tender spot with all the fellows."

"It will make a big hit with Tom Reade, I know," laughed Hazelton.

Pushing the cart through the street, the high school boys found
a restaurant that looked as though it would be within reach of
their purses.  The boys put their cart in a back yard, then went
in and asked permission to wash up.  This being granted, they
soon after took seats at a table in the restaurant.

It was an odd little place, equipped with several booths, each
containing a table and seats for four persons.

"We'll take the booth away down at the end of the room, where
we won't be seen by better-dressed people," proposed Dave.

Accordingly they occupied the last booth in the row.  There they
ordered a meal that made their mouths water in advance.

Hazelton, poking his head out of the booth as he heard some one
enter, hastily drew it in again.

"Guess who's coming!" he whispered.

"Can't," replied Dick.

"Dodge and Bayliss," replied Harry.

"Keep out of sight, and don't talk," ordered Prescott.

Bert Dodge and his chum came down the room, taking the booth next
to that of the high school boys, yet without seeing Dick and his
chums.

When the waiter appeared Dodge ordered two ice creams.

"Queer what became of the mucker gang," observed Bayliss, after
the waiter had departed.

"Not a bit queer," retorted Bert.  "That was why I wanted to meet
you here this morning.  I've found out where they are."

"How did you find out?" demanded Bayliss.

"Do you see this post card?" demanded Bert, laying a card on the
table.  "It was written by Laura Bentley to Susie Sharp, and mentions
their having had lunch at the camp of the high school muckers.
And this message gives a clear enough idea of where their camp
is, too.  Laura must have dropped the card in the street, for
that's where I found it."

"Say, that's a great find!" chuckled Bayliss.

"You may wager that it is," grinned Dodge.  "We broke up one night
of sleep for the muckers with those bombs, but I've an idea that
the night we shot off sixty rounds of blank shotgun shells that
they had already moved.  But now I have a brand-new one that we
can use and make them break camp and run for home as fast as they
can go.  Then we'll pass the story of their scare all around Gridley,
and they'll never hear the last of the laugh against them."

"I'm all attention, old fellow!" Bayliss protested eagerly.

"So are we!" thought Dick grimly, as he glanced at Dave and Harry.