“If they keep on grinning,” threatened Darry, “we’ll sic Danny Grin onto them.  When it comes to grinning our own Danny boy can grin down anything on earth.”

As if to verify that claim, Dalzell began to grin broadly.  Besides this, he turned his face toward the occupants of the automobile as it once more passed Dick & Co.

Just at this point the car slowed down.  Phin Drayne looked as though he were exhibiting his fellow students of Gridley High School as so many laughable freaks.

“That’s what I call a vacation on the cheap,” Drayne remarked to his friends, in a tone wholly audible to Dick & Co.

“It is ‘on the cheap,’” Dick called out pleasantly.  “And yet, our trip hasn’t been such a very cheap one, either, and we’ve earned all the money ourselves.  I don’t suppose, Drayne, you ever earned as much money in your life.”

“I don’t have to,” scoffed Phin Drayne.  “My father is able to supply me with whatever money I need.”

“Why!” uttered Dan Dalzell.  “Our old Drayne is just another Timmy Hinman of the regular kind, isn’t he?”

Dan looked so comical when he made this observation that his five chums burst into a shout of gleeful laughter.

Phin Drayne didn’t relish that very sincere laughter.  Though he didn’t understand the allusion, he suspected that he was being made the butt of a joke by Dick & Co.

“Drive on, George,” he requested his friend at the wheel.  “One hates to be seen in the company of such fellows.”

The car’s speed was let out several notches, and shot down the road ahead of Dick & Co.’s plain little caravan.

“Now that I think of it,” Dick declared, “Phin is just another edition of Timmy Hinman, isn’t he?  And so are quite a good many of the fellows we know.  The world must be nearly as full of Timmy Hinmans as it is of fathers either wealthy or well-to-do.  I’d hate to belong to the Timmy Hinman crowd!”

“As for me,” sighed Tom comically, “I don’t see any chance of my becoming a Timmy until I’m able to do it on money accumulated for myself.”

As Phin Drayne was still in Gridley High School, and had an overweening idea of himself as a football player, it is extremely likely that we shall hear of him again, for which reason, if for no other, we may as well dismiss him from these present pages.

A few more days of earnest hiking, followed by restful sleep in camp at night, brought Dick & Co., one fine afternoon toward the end of August, in sight of the spires of Gridley.

“There’s the good old town!” called Dick, first to reach the rise of ground from which the view of Gridley was to be had.

“Good old town, indeed!” glowed Dave Darrin.

“Whoop!” shouted Tom Reade irrepressibly.  “Whoop!  And then—–­whoop!”

Dalzell, as he stood still for a few moments, gazing ahead, grinned broadly.

“He thinks his native town is a joke!” called Greg Holmes reproachfully.