"Good-bye, vacation!" he cried. "The strenuous life from now on!"
The two youths arose from the grass, and together they started for the house at which they were boarding.
They had gone only a few steps, however, when, from across the country road, and a short distance down it, came a hail.
"Who's that?" asked Joe.
"I don't know—listen!" suggested Blake. "Are they calling us?"
There was no doubt about it a moment later, for the boys heard a voice shouting:
"Hi there! Joe! Blake! Moving Picture Boys! You're wanted!"
"Who is it? I can't see," murmured Joe.
"It's Harry, the clerk in Robertson's store," answered Blake, for a short distance away was the general store—"The Universal Emporium," as the sign had it—of Hank Robertson, of Central Falls.
"Come on, boys!" went on the voice of the caller, who was out of sight because of a roadside hedge. "You're wanted on the long-distance telephone!"
"Ugh!" groaned Blake. "Might have known it. Did you start this, Joe?" and he looked at his chum suspiciously.
