"How could it be?" objected Dale Tompkins, his arm across Ranny Phelps's shoulder. "Camp couldn't be much better than it was last summer; and if he's had word we can't use the place--well, that wouldn't be exactly pleasant." "Right, old scout!" approved Ranny. Then his face grew suddenly serious. "Do you suppose it could be about--the war?" he ventured. There was a momentary silence. In Hillsgrove, as in most other parts of the country, war and rumors of war had been plentiful of late. The ruthless German submarine campaign had been on for weeks. Only a few days before, the severing of diplomatic relations with that government had made a great stir. Everywhere people were wondering what would be the next step, and, according to temperament or conviction, were complaining of governmental sloth or praising the President's diplomacy. In all of this the boys had naturally taken more or less part, wondering, speculating, planning--a little spectacularly, perhaps--what they would do if war actually came. Suddenly Bob Gibson sniffed. "Shucks!" he commented dogmatically. "Of course it isn't. I don't believe in this war business. I'll bet that old surprise is some silly thing not worth mentioning. I'll bet it's as foolish as the riot wedge. If anybody can tell me what good that is or ever would be, I'll give him an ice-cream soda. When would there ever be a riot in this one-horse burg? I'd like to know. And if there was one, what would a bunch of fellows like us be able to do against--" "Oh, cut it out!" begged Ranny Phelps. "You know you're just talking to hear the sound of your own voice." "Am not!" growled Gibson, stubbornly. "Here we've wasted over an hour on the blooming thing, and it's not the first time, either, he's kept us late. It's getting to be nothing but drill, drill, drill, and it makes me sick." "Don't be an idiot just because you happen to know how," urged Ranny, a touch of earnestness beneath his banter. "You know perfectly well it isn't all drill, or anything like it. Maybe there's been more of it just lately, but I don't see any sense in taking up a thing unless you do it right. Trouble with you, Bob, you're so set and stubborn that you've got to find something to kick about or argue against or you wouldn't be happy. I'll bet if Dan Beard himself came out for a talk, you'd want to give him points on camping, or forestry, or something like that." There was a shout of laughter from the others that brought a touch of color to Gibson's cheeks. He growled out an emphatic denial, but Ranny had hit the mark so accurately that Bob dropped the subject for the time.