With which sage reflection Mr. Newbegin Titmouse went out into his small orchard to see whether he had overlooked any summer apples that were worth two dollars a barrel.

Dick sauntered down the street for a few blocks ere he heard the whirr of a Gridley-bound trolley car behind him.  He quickened his pace until he reached the next corner.  There he signaled to the motorman.

As the car slowed down Dick swung himself on nimbly, remarking to the conductor: 

“Don’t make a real stop for me.  Drive on!”

As Prescott passed inside the car he was greeted by a pleasant-faced, well-dressed young man.  It was Mr. Luce, one of the sub-masters of Gridley High School.  Dick dropped into a seat beside him.

“Been tramping a bit, Prescott?” inquired the sub-master.

“No, sir; I’ve been over here on a little matter of business, but I expect to start, in a day or two, on a few weeks of tramping.”

Thereupon young Prescott fell to describing the trip that he, Dave Darrin, Greg Holmes, Dan Dalzell, Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton had mapped out for themselves.

“Just for pleasure?” asked Mr. Luce.

“No, sir; for training.  We all hope to make the football team this fall.  We’re all of us in pretty good shape, too, I think, sir; but we’re going out on this training hike to see if we can’t work ourselves down as hard as nails.”

“I’d like to go with you,” nodded the sub-master.

“Can’t you do it, sir?” asked Dick eagerly, for Mr. Luce was a favorite with all the boys.

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” replied the submaster.  “I’m expected at home.  My mother and sister claim me for this month.  But I wish I could go, just the same.”

“You would be most welcome I assure you, sir,” replied Dick warmly.

“Thank you, Prescott,” returned Mr. Luce with a smile.  “I appreciate your invitation and regret that I cannot accept it.”

The conversation again turned to the subject of the coming football season, and an animated discussion ensued, as Sub-master Luce was an enthusiastic advocate of football.

Suddenly, Dick, glancing ahead out of the window, turned pale.  Without a word of explanation he sprang from his seat and made a bound for the nearer car door, the rear one.

“Everyone off!  Stop the car!  Hustle!” shouted the high school boy.  “Mr. Luce!  Come on.  Quick!”

By the time the last words were uttered Dick had made a flying leap from the car platform.

By good luck, rather more than by expert work, he landed on his feet.  Not an instant did he lose, but dashed along at full speed.

John Luce, though he had no inkling of what had caused the excitement, sprang after Dick.

Dick, however, had not waited to see if the sub-master had followed him.  His horror-filled eyes, as he ran, were turned straight ahead.

It needed but a few steps to carry him across the road.  He bounded into a field where a loaded hay wagon stood near an apple tree.