Then, to the accompaniment of some giggling, came in feminine
tones, high-pitched, the famous battle yell of Gridley High School.
"T-E-R-R-O-R-S! Wa-ar! Fam-ine! Pes-ti-lence! That's us!
That's us! G-R-I-D-L-E-Y H.S! Rah! rah! rah! rah! _Gri-i-idley_!"
"A lot of mere girls trying themselves out as real war-whoop artists!"
uttered Reade in a tone of pretended disgust.
But Dick and Dave had jumped up, and were now running for the
road as fast as they could.
It was ten days after the last word from Tag Mosher. The officers
had been promptly notified by the messengers from Dick & Co.,
and presumably were still scouring the great stretches of forest,
though so far without result.
"How did we do it, boys?" called the laughing voice of Laura Bentley,
as Dick and Dave came in sight.
"Don't ask me!" begged Dave. "Girls never ought to try school
yells. They ought to content themselves with waving handkerchiefs."
"Mr. Smarty!" cried Clara Marshall.
All eight of the girls were now in the burned clearing, surrounding
the two boys laughingly, while Greg and Dan now ran up.
Out of the woods near the road came Dr. and Mrs. Bentley.
"Prescott," called the doctor, "we forgot to write and secure
your permission for this latest vagary of mine.
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