is no
knowing what Mosher would do if he got cornered by more than one
of us. Hereafter we mustn't leave this thing outside."

Dick carried the axe into the tent, hiding it without awaking
any of the other sleepers. Then he went outside, searching until
he found a club that he thought would answer for defense.

Taking this with him he went over to the wash basin, where, wetting
a towel, he bathed his battered face.

"Almost one o'clock," he remarked, after striking a match for
a look at his watch. "I won't call Dave at all, but will stay
up and call Harry at half-past one."

CHAPTER XII

"TAG" IS THE GAME---TAG MOSHER!

"Now, come in with the sprint!" Dick sang out to Hazelton.

"Greg, Dave and Tom, you block him. Get through, Harry---some
way! Don't let 'em stop you."

It was three days later, and Dick & Co. were at work at their
main task during this summer camping, which was to train hard
and try to fit themselves for the football squad when high school
should open again.

Hazelton came on, at racing speed. He ducked low, making a gallant
effort. He nearly succeeded in getting through, but Tom's tackle
brought him to ground just at the right moment.

"Now, try that over again," Prescott said.

So the work went on, vigorously, for another hour---until all
of the boys were tired out, hot and panting.

"That's the most grueling work I ever did in the same space of
time," muttered Reade, mopping his face.

"Yes; it's the kind of work for which football calls," rejoined
Prescott, also mopping his face. "Dan, get up off the ground!"

"I'm hot," muttered Dalzell, "and I'm tired."

"Then rest on a campstool. Don't chill yourself by lying on the
ground when you're so warm."

After a few seconds of contemplated mutiny, Danny Grin rose and
found a seat on a stool.

"As soon as you're cool, three of you go to the water and wash
off," Dick ordered. "The other three of us will stay here until
you get back."

That was the order of the day now. At least two, and usually
three of Dick & Co. always remained near camp. If Mosher planned
to come again he would find a "committee" waiting to receive him.

There were more supplies, too, to guard now than there had been.
On the morning after Dick's encounter, a farmer had driven into
camp. His wagon had been well laden with all manner of canned
food supplies, even to tins of French mushrooms. These had come
from Alonzo Hibbert, with a note of