Part 12 (1/2)
So better counsel prevailed, and Joe Miller was not asked to loan his shotgun. In due time Joe drove around to the door of the store, and the work of loading began.
”Hey, you fellows, where are you going?” hailed Ben Alvord, stopping and gaping in wonder.
”Camping,” replied d.i.c.k with an air of importance.
”Whee! Say, take me along?” coaxed Ben.
d.i.c.k hated the task of refusing, but Dave came to his rescue.
”Got five dollars, Ben?”
”Quit your kidding,” retorted Alvord.
”That's what each fellow paid to get into this outfit,” Dave went on.
”We couldn't feed any more fellows unless they contributed their share in cash.”
”How long you going to be gone?” asked Ben.
”Maybe two weeks.”
”Whee!”
”It will depend somewhat on how long it takes us to eat up our table stuff,” laughed d.i.c.k.
”My, but you fellows are in luck!”
A few more of the Grammar School fellows happened along. There was much envious talk. There were also several pleas to be taken along, but the mention of the five dollar a.s.sessment silenced all such requests.
”All ready!” called out Joe Miller at last. ”You youngsters jump on lively, for we've got a long way to go.”
With a glad whoop d.i.c.k & Co. piled aboard the truck, stowing themselves away as comfortably as might be.
”Giddap!” grumbled Joe at the horses.
”Say!” shouted Ben Alvord as the start was made.
”Well?” answered Dan.
”Who's going to do your cookin'?”
”We are.”
”Wow! You won't all live to tell the tale, then. Got any medicines with you?”
”There, I knew we'd forgotten something,” declared Tom Reade solemnly.
”S'posing any of us should get sick?”
”We'll make up our minds that we're not going to,” replied Dave.
”Fellows camping out in winter haven't any right to get sick.”