"I wonder why such fellows as Timothy Hinman were ever created," Tom went on. "Every time I think about the gentlemanly Timmy I feel as though I wanted to kick something." Only the day before, stopping at a postoffice on the route, as had been arranged with Dr. Hewitt, Dick & Co. had received word that the peddler was seriously ill with pneumonia, with all the chances against his recovery. "If the peddler should die," suggested Dave soberly, "do you believe that Timmy Hinman will be able to face the thought of going to work for a living?" "It would be an awful fate," Tom declared grimly. "Timmy might try to work, but I don't know whether he would be able to live through the shock and shame of having to earn the money for paying his own bills in life." "There's that irrepressible Dick again!" called Greg five minutes later. "What's he up to now?" asked Tom, from further up the creek. "He has had his rub-down, got his clothing on and is now at work frying bacon and eggs." "Then don't disturb him," begged Reade, "or he might fry short of the quantity of food that is really going to be required." Five minutes more, however, saw the last of the boys out of water and rapidly getting themselves in shape to perform their own required duties. There could be no idlers in the party when Dick & Co. were away from home on a hike. Yet, once breakfast had been disposed of, and the dishes washed, there seemed something in the August air that made them all disinclined to break camp and move on. "I wish we could stay here all day, and move on to-morrow," murmured Hazy, thus voicing the thought of some of the others. "And then blame the tramps for loafing!" exclaimed Dick. "Do we look as though we had loafed this summer?" challenged Dalzell. "No; but one or two of you would have done a good deal of it if you hadn't been afraid of the contempt of the others," smiled Prescott. "Honestly, now," demanded Hazy, "wouldn't you enjoy just staying here and lounging today, Dick Prescott?" "I would," Dick assented. "There, now!" "But that isn't what we left home to do, so we won't do it." "Eh?" queried Hazy. "Attention, Lazybones Squad!" called Prescott, springing up. "Hazy, harness the horse and hitch him to the wagon. Tom, Dave and Greg, take down the tent. I'll pack the bedding. Dan, load the kitchen stuff on the wagon." This occupied a few minutes. "Now, all hands turn to and load on the floor planks, bedding and the tent," called Dick. This, too, was quickly accomplished, though all six were now perspiring. "Greg, I believe it's your turn to drive first to-day," Prescott announced. "Up with you! Forward---march!" Dick led the way out of camp, at a brisk four-mile-an-hour stride. The long hike was started, at last. After that there was no grumbling, even during the hourly halt of ten minutes.