“Looks as if the old gang will be broken up by next fall,” said Joe glumly.
“That’s true,” agreed Chet. “I think we all ought to get together as soon as we know the results of the exams and have one big party to celebrate.”
“A picnic!” exclaimed Frank.
“Good idea!” declared Jerry Gilroy. “I’ll write it up for the paper.”
“Where shall we have the picnic?” asked Tony. “Beach Grove?”
“Beach Grove is the only place for a picnic. We’ll have the whole graduating class,” Frank said. “The girls, too.”
“I don’t know about that,” demurred Chet, who did not care for girls.
“Go on with you. If we have a class picnic we can’t leave the girls out. Anyway, they’ll be sure to bring along lots of eats.”
“Oh, I forgot about that,” said Chet, who had a weakness for food. “By all means, we must have the girls along.”
“In the meantime, Jerry, keep your eyes open around your newspaper office and see if you can’t get a look at the examination results when they’re sent in for publication,” Frank suggested. “They’ll appear in the paper first, and if you get on the good side of the city editor he may let you have a look at them.”
“And phone us right away,” added Chet.
Jerry promised to keep on the lookout for the examination results.
Frank’s suggestion of a picnic met with the instant favor of the other members of the graduation class who were enthusiastic over the idea. They all realized that within the next few months the class would be scattered far and wide and that it would probably be their last opportunity of being all together.
Then they settled down to the tedious business of awaiting the all-important results. Two days passed, with no word from Jerry Gilroy, who had extracted a promise from his city editor that he would be shown the list as soon as it reached the office. The Hardy boys and their chums bided their time with such patience as they could muster. Frank and Joe went out on Barmet Bay in their motorboat, The Sleuth, and explored the countryside in their roadster.
On Thursday morning the boys were in the gymnasium in the barn back of the Hardy home. Chet Morton was sitting in a window munching at an apple, as usual. Biff Hooper was drumming away at the punching bag. Tony Prito was practicing some complicated maneuvers on the parallel bars, while Phil Cohen and Joe Hardy were engaged in a spirited wrestling match. Frank was busy trying to repair a broken baseball bat, with small success.
“Somebody calling you, Frank,” said Chet, glancing out the window.
Frank looked out. Aunt Gertrude was standing in the back door, beckoning to him.
“You’re wanted on the telephone,” she called.
“It must be from Jerry!” shouted Frank.
The others stopped their activities instantly. Frank almost tumbled down the stairs in his anxiety to reach the house in the quickest possible time. The other boys crowded to the window. They saw him disappear into the house. He seemed to be away for a long time.
“Bad news, I’m sure of it,” moaned Chet.
“Good news, I’ll bet a cookie,” said Joe, trying to be cheerful.
After a while they saw Frank come out of the house. His shoulders drooped. He walked slowly.
“What’s the verdict?” clamored Chet.
Frank looked up, shook his head mournfully, and sighed. They heard him coming up the stairs.
“I knew it,” Chet groaned. “We’ve all failed.”
When Frank came up into the gymnasium they crowded around him. He looked as though he had lost every friend he had in the world.
“For the love of Pete, don’t keep us in suspense!” demanded Tony. “Was it Jerry? What did he say?”
“It was from Jerry,” admitted Frank heavily. “Well, fellows, I don’t know how you’re going to feel about it, but as for me—” he shook his head again.
“Back to the high school for another year, is it?” asked Joe solemnly.
“Don’t take it too badly, fellows. Of course, we all knew the exams were harder than usual.”
“Yes, they were tough,” admitted Chet. “But, hang it all, didn’t some of us get through? I was sure I’d failed, but I thought the rest of you would make it.”
“The results are out,” said Frank. “I know you’re going to feel bad about it, but every one of us—everyone, mind you—passed!”
“What?” they roared.
Frank turned a handspring.
“We all passed!” he yelled, in delight. Then he sat down on the floor and laughed at the expression on their faces. “Boy! didn’t I throw a scare into you?”
Biff Hooper hurled a boxing glove at him. Phil Cohen seized Tony Prito around the waist and danced about in glee. Chet threw away the core of his apple and stood on his head. Joe vaulted over the parallel bars. Pandemonium reigned.
School was over at last!
“And now,” shouted Frank, “for the picnic!”
VI
The Cabin in the Woods
Preparations for the picnic at Beach Grove on the following Saturday were in full swing during the next few days. All the members of the graduation class at Bayport High were enthusiastic, and the girls were busy baking cookies and cakes. From the standpoint of Chet Morton, at any rate, the success of the outing was therefore assured.
“As long as there’s plenty of food, it will be a good picnic,” he said.
Callie Shaw, who was Frank Hardy’s particular favorite among the girls of the class, admitted that she felt sad at the prospect of seeing “the crowd” broken up at last.
“We had some good times at High. Somehow, I wish now that we had all failed so we could go back for another year.”
“You didn’t feel like that when you were writing the math exam,” Iola Morton, Chet’s sister, reminded Callie.
“No. I suppose if I did go back I’d be grouching about the work all over again,” laughed Callie. “I’m glad we’re going to have the picnic, though. It will be nice
