"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 thanks for the entertainment
of himself and friends.
"These provisions are mighty welcome," Prescott had remarked at
the time, "but I'm not sure but that I would rather have Hibbert
himself here---I've so much to tell him.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120