“Is our greatness due to ourselves, or to the fact that the United States embraces the greatest natural resources in the world?” demanded Dick Prescott.

“It’s partly due to the people, and partly due to the resources of the country,” Dave contended.

Dick kept them arguing.  Harry Hazelton, as driver, remained silent, but the others argued against Dick, trying to overthrow all his disparaging utterances against the American people.

Finally Reade grew warm, indeed.

“Cut it out, Dick—–­do!” he urged.  “This doesn’t really sound like you.  I hate to hear a fellow go on running down his own countrymen.  I tell you, it isn’t patriotic.”

“But just stop to consider this point,” Prescott urged, and started on a new, cynical line of argument.

“I still contend that we’re the greatest people on earth,” Reade insisted almost angrily.  “We ought to be, anyway, for Americans don’t come of any one line of stock.  We’re descended from pioneers—–­the pick and cream of all the peoples of Europe.”

But Dick kept up his line of discussion until they came to the river for which he had headed them.  They followed the winding stream into the woods where the trees partially hid them from the observation of passers-by on the road, From this point they could easily keep a watch on the wagon while in the water.

“Now, let’s sit down and cool off for five minutes,” proposed Dick, as he filled the feed bag for the horse.  “After that we’ll be ready for a swim.”

“But, with regard to what you were saying about frayed American
nerves, poor stomachs and all-around babyishness-----” Tom began
all over again.

“Stop it!” laughed Dick.  “We don’t need that line of talk any longer.”

“Then why did you start it?” asked Dave.

“We’ve covered the two miles that you all thought such a hardship,” chuckled Prescott.

“Then you-----” began Reade, opening his eyes wider as a dawning
light came into them.   “Come on, Dave!   Catch him!   The water’s
handy!”

But Dick, with a light laugh, bounded away, shinned up a tree, and, sitting in a crotch, swung his feet toward the faces of Tom, Dave and Harry as they tried to get him and drag him down.

“You’ve got a strategic position, just now,” growled Reade.  “But just you wait until we catch you down on the ground again!”

“You fellows must feel pretty well sold,” Greg taunted them.  “I kept out of the row, for I saw, at the outset, that Dick was going to start something for the sole purpose of keeping us arguing until we forgot all about our breakfasts.”

“That’s just like Dick Prescott!” uttered Tom ruefully.  “We never get to know him so well that he can’t start us all on a new tack and have more fun with us.”

“Well, you forgot your supposed starvation, didn’t you?” chuckled Dick from his tree.

Two or three minutes later he swung down from the tree to the ground, rapidly removing his clothing and donning swimming trunks.  He was not molested; the other five were too busy preparing for the bath.