The Essential Edward Stratemeyer Collection. Stratemeyer Edward

      "Say, that puts me in mind of a story!" burst out Shadow Hamilton. "A fellow made a date with a girl for six o'clock. Well, at five----"

      "Wow!"

      "Shadow is onto the game already!"

      "Say, Shadow, give us a chance to say how-do-you-do first, won't you?"

      "I believe Shadow would try to tell a story if he was going to a funeral."

      "Oh, say!" burst out the former story-teller of Oak Hall. "That puts me in mind of another. Two Irishmen went to a funeral and----"

      "Shut him off!"

      "Put a popcorn ball in his mouth!"

      "Make him apologize on the spot!"

      At once the four others surrounded the would-be story-teller and pushed him from the gravel path to the green lawn. Then followed something of a wrestling match, all the lads taking part.

      "Let up, will you!" panted Shadow, breaking away at last. "I won't tell any stories if you don't want to listen to 'em. But just the same, that story about the Irishmen was a good one. And that about the fellow who went to see the girl at five o'clock is a corker. You see his watch had stopped and he----"

      "Jump him!"

      "He can't stop, no matter how hard he tries!"

      "Let's stand him on his head and make him tell it backwards!"

      Again there was a rush, but this time poor Shadow took to his heels and rushed up on the piazza, just as the door opened and Mrs. Morr came out to greet the boys.

      "Roger!" exclaimed the lady of the mansion, turning to her son, "what in the world----"

      "Only a little horse-play, Mom," replied the son, with a smile. "We are so glad to see the fellows that we have to let off a little steam."

      "It looked like a fight to me."

      "Oh, nothing like that, Mrs. Morr," said Dave, quickly. "Only fun; isn't that so, fellows?"

      "Of course!" was the quick reply.

      "Have you met Luke and Shadow, Mom?" asked Roger.

      "Yes, about an hour ago. I told them that you had telephoned that you were on the way home, so they said they'd remain out here, watching for you. I showed them what room they were to occupy," added the lady of the mansion.

      "Fine!" cried Roger. "I'll put the car away for the present, and then we'll fix up for dinner and listen to those stories Shadow had to tell."

      "Somebody said Buster Beggs was coming," said Luke.

      "Yes, he'll be here the night before the Fourth."

      Quarter of an hour later found the whole crowd of boys upstairs in the house. In anticipation of the Fourth of July party, as she called it, Mrs. Morr had turned over one wing of the second floor of the big house to the youths. There they could "cut up" to their hearts' content.

      "Say, this is something like old times at Oak Hall!" cried Phil, as the youths gathered in one of the bedrooms and proceeded to distribute themselves in various attitudes on the chairs and the bed. "Somehow, I think we are going to miss that school!"

      "Miss it! Well I guess yes!" answered Dave. "And that puts me in mind of something. I was thinking----"

      "Whoop! Is he going to tell stories, too?"

      "Say, Dave, that act belongs to Shadow."

      "No, I wasn't going to tell a story," answered Dave. "I've got an idea for a club."

      "A club? What do you mean?" asked Roger. "Do you mean for us to get up a club?"

      "Yes, the Oak Hall Club, to be composed of fellows who attended Oak Hall for a year or more."

      "Great!"

      "Let us do it!"

      "We'll make Dave president," cried Roger.

      "And you treasurer," added Phil.

      "And Shadow chief story-teller," put in Luke, with a grin.

      "Huh! What's the use of being chief story-teller when you won't let me tell a story?" grumbled Shadow. "But I know what I'll do," he added, with a sudden twinkle in his eye. "If you won't let me talk, I'll write it down. And I'll write a sentence none of you can read and be sure of," he went on.

      "What's that?" asked Phil, curiously. "A sentence none of us can read? Maybe you'll write it in Choctaw, or Chinese."

      "No, I'll write it in plain, every-day United States, and none of you will be sure how to read it."

      "What's the riddle?" demanded Dave, who saw that the story-teller had something up his sleeve.

      "Give me a sheet of paper and a pencil and I'll show you," returned Shadow.

      Paper and pencil were furnished by Roger, and the story-teller quickly wrote down the following:

      _"After a row the sailors had a row!"_

      "Now read it out loud!" cried Shadow, as he passed the paper to the others. All gazed at it for several seconds.

      "I pass," remarked Dave, calmly.

      "Why, that's easy!" cried Phil. "After a ro----Say, Shadow, what do you mean, did they quarrel or row the boat first?"

      "Maybe they rowed the boat twice," suggested Roger, with a grin.

      "Or had two quarrels," suggested Luke. And then a general laugh went up.

      "You've got us this time, Shadow!" cried Dave. "Give him a lemon, somebody, for a prize," and then another laugh went up.

      "That idea of an Oak Hall Club is a good one," said Luke. "But you can't organize it now--the fellows are too scattered."

      "Oh, I was thinking we might do it later on--perhaps this winter," answered Dave.

      The newcomers were much interested in what Dave, Phil, and Roger had to tell about Job Haskers and Link Merwell, and various were the opinions advanced as to what had become of the pair.

      "They are both mighty sore, because they had to leave Oak Hall in disgrace," said Luke. "Every one of us had better keep his eye peeled, for they'll make trouble if they get half a chance." And then the bell rang for dinner and the boys went downstairs.

      The next day the lads were all busy getting ready for the Fourth of July. It had been arranged that they should have quite a display of fireworks on the lawn of the senator's home, and many folks of that vicinity were invited to attend.

      "Here is Buster Beggs!" cried Roger, that evening, and the youth who was so fat and jolly hove in sight, suit-case in hand. He shook hands all around and was speedily made to feel at home.

      "Glad you are going to have fireworks," he said to Roger. "I don't care much for noise on the Fourth, but I dote on fireworks. Let me set some of 'em off, won't you?"

      "Of course," was Roger's reply. "We boys are going to give the exhibition, while the older folks, and the girls, look on."

      "But we are going to have a little noise--at sunrise," put in Phil.

      "What kind of noise--a cannon?"

      "No, some firecrackers."

      "Oh, that will be all right," answered Buster, thinking the firecrackers were to be of ordinary size.

      So they were--all but one. But that one was a monster--the largest Phil and Roger had been able to buy. They