STALLING THE RED "SMATTACH"

"That's the very thing!" muttered Tom Reade at last.

"It can't get us into any scrape with the law, can it?" queried
Dave Darrin, with almost unwonted caution.

"I don't see how it can," smiled Dick Prescott.  "I'm no lawyer,
but I can't see how our trick, the way we intend to play it, can
be called a breach of the law."

"Let's not lose any time with the game," urged Reade.  "Let's
get in and do it before Dodge and Bayliss come back.  I wonder
where they are, anyway?"

"I don't care where they are," said Dave, "as long as they keep
away from here until we're through with what we intend to do."

From its place in the runabout car Tom drew forth a wheel-jack.
This he and Dave fitted under an axle, raising the wheel half
aft inch off the ground.  Dick rapidly remove the tire from that
front wheel.

By the time he had finished Tom ran with the jack around to the
other front wheel, removing the tire from it also.

As the red runabout carried no extra tires the little car was
now hopelessly stalled until relief was brought to the scene.

"Now, I'll slip back and bring the fellows on," Dick whispered.
"Tom, you take Dave down to the camp site.  I'll be right along
with the other fellows."

Tom and Dave started along the forest path, each carrying a tire
slung over one shoulder.

Dick, darting back, brought up the other fellows.  All took a
gleeful look at the red Smattach as they passed, then hurried on.

Down to a level bit of ground at the lakeside Dick led the last
of his friends.  Tom and Dave were already there, the two pneumatic
tires standing against the trunk o a tree.

Dick's first move was to take a rope from the cart.  This, after
being passed through the rubber tires, was tied between two trees,
clothesline fashion.

"Now, let's rustle all the stuff off the cart," urged Dick.  "Be
quick about it.  We want the tent up in good shape before darkness
falls."

It is not much of a trick to raise a tent twelve feet by twenty,
when there are six pairs of hands to do it.  The two centre poles
were adjusted to the ridge-pole, and all three were pushed in
under the canvas.

"Up with her," called Dick.

As the tent was raised, Tom and Greg were left holding the centre
poles in place.  With a sledge Dick drove a corner stake, and
a guy-rope was made fast to it.  One after another the remaining
corner stakes were quickly driven and the ropes made fast.  The
tent would now stand by itself.

Dick and Dave, Tom and Greg now attended to two stakes at a time,
making the other guy-ropes fast.

"Danny, you may set in all the wall-pegs," said Dick, standing
back to survey the really neat job.

"I've been thinking-----" began Dalzell.

"Then let Hazelton do the wall-pegging," retorted Dick tersely.

"I've been thinking-----" Dalzell went on, "that it would be awfully
funny, wouldn't it, if that red Smattach belonged, not to Dodge,
but to some fellow we've never seen before?"

"It would be inexpressibly funny!" growled Tom Reade.  "And what
would be funnier than anything else would be our frantic efforts
to make a satisfactory explanation."

"We could be arrested for theft, couldn't we?" asked Greg, glancing
up apprehensively from the side wall pegging.

"Hardly that," replied Dick, with a shake of his head.  "Theft,
as I understand it, usually carries with it the sale of the plunder,
or its concealment.  We have hung up the tires where anyone who
is interested may see them.  Still, it would be awkward making
explanations to strangers, and we'd all feel mighty cheap."

"Then maybe we'll have our chance to feel that way," suggested
Danny Grin, his mouth opening still wider.

"Don't waste your time on pleasant thoughts, like that," grunted
Reade.  "Try to think of something sad."

"If it's the Dodge car, could Bert make any trouble for us?" Darrin
wanted to know.

"Hardly," answered young Prescott.  "We've simply played a clever
trick on Dodge and Bayliss.  As our excuse we could point out
a trick they palmed off on us earlier in the day.  We'd be quits.
You needn't fear Dodge.  Never, since that time when he got so
awfully beaten over the assault charge he made against me, has
he felt that he wanted to face me in court again."

"You fellows wait here, and don't be worried if I don't come back
soon," interposed Darry suddenly.

"What are you going to do?" demanded Tom Reade.

But Dave had slipped away.  When he chose to be as mysterious
as that, Dick Prescott knew better than to question his chum.

Rapidly the work of straightening camp proceeded.  Dave was back
in a little more than half an hour.  Yet he returned so noiselessly
that he was in camp before the others realized his presence.

"Well-----?" asked Dick eagerly.

"Come into the tent, fellows," whispered Dave.

When Darrin had them inside he went on, in a low voice:

"It's the Dodge car, all right.  I hid behind a tree nearby the
car and waited until they returned.  When they found the front
tires missing they were furious.  Bayliss said we fellows had
done it, but Bert said he didn't believe we were anywhere near
here as yet.  I slipped away and left them arguing.  Dodge wants
Bayliss to walk to the nearest place where he can telephone to
a garage to send a man out with new tires.  Bayliss says it's
the Dodge car, and Bert can do the walking.  It looks as though
they would come to blows, and, as I've been gently reared, with
a distaste for fighting, I slipped away."

"If they want to come down and look along the edge of this lake,
they'll soon find out where their tires are," Dick Prescott chuckled.
"But they'll have to come right in here to camp and ask for their
property."

"Which they won't greatly care about doing," laughed Reade.

"Let them stay away until their nerves improve, then," said Dick
briefly.  "Now, let's see; we've got to set up the cots and bedding,
and get the two lanterns filled and trimmed for the evening.
That ought not to take many minutes."

Nor did it.  When this had been done, Dick asked:

"Fellows, you know what we came here to do?  Fish wouldn't taste
bad for supper, would it?  Which two of you want to go and try
your luck for perch?  They'll bite, even after dark."

Tom and Hazelton made a hasty selection of tackle, also producing
a can of bait that had been brought along from Gridley.

Then Tom and Harry disappeared, taking with them one of the lanterns.
A quarter of a mile below the camp were the ruins of an old pier
from which they could cast their lines.

Where the perch are plentiful there is little skill involved in
such fishing.  Perch will bite after dark.  The hook is baited
and dropped in.  The fish take hold greedily, rarely falling from
the hook afterward.

While Tom and Harry were still fishing darkness fell.  The two
Gridley boys fished on in silence, adding frequently to the two
crotched stick "strings" that flopped on the end of the pier.

"We've thirty-nine perch.  That's enough, even for a hungry crowd
like ours," said Tom at last, after lighting the lantern.

"Here is the fortieth, then," called Hazelton, as he felt a tug
at his line.  He landed a pound perch almost under Tom's nose.

"Good enough business, this," declared Tom contentedly.  "I hope
the fellows have everything else ready."

Tom carried the lantern; each boy carried a string of fish.  As
they neared camp, Danny Grin espied them, and ran forward to
see the size of the catch.

"Here they are!" called Dalzell.  "They've fish enough to feed
a fat men's boarding house!"

"Bring them here," called Dick from a board beside which he and
Greg crouched, each with a knife in hand.

One after another the fish were scaled and cleaned with a speed
known only to old campers.  Dave had two frying pans hot over
a fire. In went the perch, sputtering in the fat and giving forth
appetizing odors.

"My, but they're going to taste good!" declared Danny Grin.

Leaving Greg to finish with the cleaning of the fish Dick passed
to another campfire, throwing into a hot pan the material for
fried potatoes.

Ere long the meal was on the table---two boards placed across
the tops of two boxes.  It was a low table, but it served the
purpose.

"My, but this fish tastes good!" murmured Tom Reade, as he picked
a piece of fried perch free of the backbone and began eating it.

"We'll all of us find it the best meal ever, just because we've
tramped far enough and worked hard enough to make any kind of
decent food taste great," Dick smiled.

The supper over, and one of the campfires replenished, all six
of the youngsters took the dishes down to the lake, carrying along
two kettles of hot water, where a general dish-washing ensued.
With so many to do the work, the camp was spick and span within
twenty minutes.

"Now, I'm going to enjoy one thing that I haven't had all day,
and that's some real rest," Prescott declared, throwing himself
down upon the grass.  "I don't believe I shall move until bedtime."

But he did.  Already trouble was hovering over the camp.  From
out of the darkness beyond three pairs of eyes studied the campers
in silence.  One pair belonged to Bert Dodge, another the young
Bayliss, and the third to a man of about middle age.

Dodge and Bayliss were thoroughly angry.