WHEN THE PEDDLER WAS "FRISKED"
It was a hot and dusty road that lay before them when they again
took up their march that day.
Yet Dick Prescott insisted that, despite the late start, they
must count upon covering twenty miles for that second day.
At night they halted on the edge of woods so far from the nearest
farm house that Prescott did not consider it necessary to hunt
up the owner and ask permission.
"Now, we'll have to see if we can find water here," Dick proposed.
"Let's scatter, and the fellow who finds drinkable water must
let out a yell to inform the others."
"I'll save you some trouble," Reade offered. "You fellows needn't
hunt water at all. Give me the buckets and I'll go and get it."
"Have you been in this part of the country before?" asked Dick.
"No; and I don't need to have been here before in order to know
that this ground is full of water," replied Reade, who was full
of practical knowledge of that sort. "If I were a civil engineer,
out with a field party, I'd mark this section 'water' on the map.
Look at the ground here under the trees. It's as moist as can
be."
Tom departed, but barely two minutes had elapsed when he was back
with two pailfuls of water as clear as crystal.
"It's nearly as cold as ice water," Tom announced. "There's a
bully big spring just a few steps back in the woods."
"Then I'm going to use some of this to wash up," Darrin declared.
"I'll go with you on the next trip, Tom, and help carry the water."
"You'd better wait until we get the tent up before we wash," suggested
Prescott. "Then you'll need it more."
Quick work was made of the encamping. Dan and Greg, from the
wagon, passed down the tent itself, the floor boards and joists,
the cots and bedding and some of the food supplies.
Then all hands quickly put up the tent. Reade and Hazelton had
the flooring down in a jiffy. Dan and Greg put up the cots, while
Dick and Dave set up the folding camp table and started the fire
in the stove with a bundle of fagots brought in by Hazelton.
"Now, get busy with the wash-up," Dick called.
Within thirty minutes after halting, supper was on the table.
"How far from a swimming place this time?" Tom asked.
"Three miles, if I've studied the map right," replied Prescott,
taking the road map from his pocket and passing it over.
"To-morrow," said Dave, "some of us will swim in plain sight of
the outfit all the time."
"Do you think you can hike three miles and swim before breakfast
in the morning?" asked Dick.
"The way I feel now," said Tom, pushing his campstool back from
the table, "I shan't need anything to eat to-morrow."
"You must feel ill, then," declared Danny Grin.
"No; I feel just filed up enough to last for two or three days,"
sighed Reade contentedly.
Harry and Greg were a bit footsore, but the other boys claimed
to feel all right.
"Do any of you feel like taking an evening walk?" asked Dick with
a smile.
"I do," Darrin declared promptly.
"Not I," replied Tom. "At least not so soon after supper."
"Shall we try the walk?" Dick asked Darrin.
"I'm ready," Dave agreed. "Come along, then." Though it was
dark, the two boys decided not to take a lantern with them.
"We don't need one on a public highway," said Dick as they plunged
off down the dark road.
"How far shall we go?" Darrin asked.
"I think two miles away from camp and two miles back, ought to
be far enough," Dick replied.
"If we feel like going farther, we can tackle it when the time
comes," Darrin answered. "But how shall we judge the distance?"
"We'll walk briskly for thirty-five to thirty-eight minutes,"
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.
"No; I'm not."
"But you wouldn't steal money if you had millions right under
your hand where you could get away with the stuff," protested
Darry.
"I wouldn't," Dick agreed promptly. "I wouldn't steal anything.
Yet it's no worse, morally, to steal a million dollars from a
great bank than it is to steal a suit of clothes from a house
whose occupants are absent. All theft is theft. There are no
degrees of theft. The small boy who would steal a nickel or a
dime from his mother would steal a million dollars from a stranger
if he had the chance and the nerve to commit the crime. All tramps,
sooner or later, become petty thieves. Thieving goes with the
life of idleness and vagabondage."
"I don't know about that," argued Dave. "A lot of men become
tramps just through hard luck. I don't believe all of them steal,
even small stuff."
"I believe they do, if they remain tramps," Dick insisted. "No
man is safe who will deliberately go through life without earning
his way. The man who starts with becoming idle ends with becoming
vicious. This doesn't apply to tramps alone. Any day's newspaper
will furnish you with stories of the vicious doings of the idle
sons of rich men. Unless a man has an object in life, and works
directly toward it all the time, he is in danger."
"I'd hate to believe that every ragged tramp I meet is a criminal,"
Dave muttered.
"He is, if he remains a tramp long enough," Dick declared with
emphasis. "Take the tramps we met this morning. Look at all
the trouble they were taking to rob us of food for a meal or two."
"There may have been an element of mischief in what they did,"
Dave hinted. "They may have done it just as a lark."
"They were thieves by instinct," Dick insisted. "They would have
stolen anything that they could get away with safely. Hello!
There's a light over there in the woods."
"Another camping party?" Dave wondered.
"Tramps, more likely. Suppose we speak low and advance with caution
until we know where we are and whom we're likely to meet."
In silence the high school boys drew nearer. The light proved
to come from a campfire that had been lighted some fifty feet
from the road.
"Yes, you have!" insisted a harsh voice, as the boys drew nearer.
"Don't try to fool with us. Turn over your money, or we'll make
you wish you had!"
"Why, it's our tramps of this morning," whispered Dave.
"And look at that wagon---the peddler's!" Dick whispered in answer.
"Come, now, old man! Turn over your money, unless you want us
to frisk you for it!" continued a voice.
"There are your honest tramps, Dave," Prescott whispered.
Then his eyes flashed, for, by the light of the campfire the lads
saw the tramps seize frightened Reuben Hinman on either side and
literally turn him upside down, the old man's head hitting the
ground.
"Don't make any noise," whispered Prescott, "but we won't stand
for that!"
"We surely won't!" Darry agreed with emphasis.
"Come on, now---soft-foot!"
As the tramps jostled Mr. Hinman, upside down and yelling with
fright, a sack containing the peddler's money rolled from one
of the peddler's trousers pockets.
"Shake him again! There'll be more than that coming!" jeered
one of the tramps.
But just then they let go their hold of the old man, for Dick
Prescott and Dave Darrin rushed in out of the darkness, dealing
blows that sent the tramps swiftly to earth.
Yet the two high school boys were now doomed to pay the penalty
of not having scouted a bit before rushing in.
For the two tramps were not the only ones of their kind at hand.
Out of the shadows under the surrounding trees came a rush of
feet, accompanied by hoarse yells.
Then, before they had had time fully to realize just what was
happening, Prescott and Darrin found themselves suddenly in the
midst of the worst fight they had ever seen in their lives.
"Beat 'em up!" yelled the man whom Dick had knocked down. "I
know these young fellers! They put up a bad time for us this
morning. Beat 'em up and make a good job of it, too."
There was no use whatever in contending with such odds. Yet Dick
and Dave fought with all their might, only to be borne to the
ground, where they received severe punishment.