"Hi, Ned! what do you say to a little race?"
"I'm ready," called Ned Slade.
"How about you, Jerry?"
"Oh, I'm always ready," answered Jerry Hopkins, tossing aside the core of an apple he had been eating. "But how far is the race to be, Chunky?"
"To the oak tree," replied Bob Baker.
"Suits me," said Jerry. "All aboard!"
The three bicyclists rose from the grass where they had been resting in the shade of a big maple tree, after a trip of about five miles on their bicycles around the country outside of the village of Cresville, where they lived. Cresville was a pleasant town, not a great many miles from Boston.
The three boys were chums, and had been ever since they had started to school together, eight years previous. There was Bob, the son of Andrew Baker, who was counted one of the wealthiest men in Cresville. His interests were varied, but were mainly in banks and banking institutions. Besides Bob there was in the family a daughter Susie. Bob was fourteen years old, and Susie two years younger, and Bob was so much inclined to stoutness that he was sometimes called "Chunky" by his chums.