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The Boy Scouts as County Fair Guides.
"You know, boys, a whole lot depends on what kind of weather we have during Fair week!"
"How about that, Arthur? You're the weather-wise scout of Oakvale Troop."
"Yes, give us your forecast, Arthur; has the rain let up for keeps?"
"So far as that goes, Alec, I notice in the morning paper it's turned clear all the way from the Rockies east, and that ought to mean a good spell of several days for us."
"Unless one of those howlers comes twisting up the Atlantic coast from the West Indies; you want to remember that the hurricane season isn't quite over yet."
"Nothing of the kind in sight, and I always look up every scrap of weather news in the papers."
"You make me happy when you say that, Arthur, old weather sharp. We get our afternoons off from school while the County Fair is on, because it's such a big thing for Oakvale and vicinity. I'm trying to figure out what I can do to have a cracking good time of it."
"So are we all, Tom, but there's no use trying to hike off somewhere with the whole troop. You can't do much on an afternoon. Why couldn't they have fixed it so we would get free the last half of the week, including Saturday?"
"Tell that to the school directors, Alec. Perhaps they'll take pity on you and change the programme. I doubt it, though. I reckon they want the boys to be around while the Fair is going on."
"I've figured out that my scheme is to hang around the Exhibition and see the a?roplane man do his stunts every afternoon; but I'd rather be in camp any day."
The three boys whose chatter opens this chapter had been tramping along the main road leading into the town of Oakvale, where they all lived. It was on a Saturday afternoon in early fall. That the lads had been spending part of their holiday in fishing was in plain evidence, for besides carrying either bamboo poles or jointed rods, they dangled strings of yellow perch, some of the catch being of extraordinary size.
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