"Darry," smiled Dick, "I wish to present my friend, Mr. Tag Mosher."
"What?" gasped Darrin. "This Tag Mosher. By Jove, it is, it?
How on earth did you make him wait for us?"
Then, all in a flying heap Dave projected himself against young
Mosher, clinching with him and bearing him down to the ground.
In order to make doubly sure Greg joined in the assault. But
Tag, though he struggled, did not put up much of a fight.
"Quit!" he ordered sullenly. "I'm all in. Can't you fellows
see that? But if I hadn't been sick I'd either have gotten away,
or would have given you fellows a fight that you'd never forget!"
Quick-witted Dave was not long in discovering that Tag really
was weak, as though from a recent illness.
"Say," demanded Darry, "have we been exerting ourselves to thrash
an ambulance case?" His voice rang with self disgust.
"If I'd been a well one," growled Tag, "you never would have put
me down, or held me. But I'm like a kitten to-night----strength
all gone!"
"What's going on here?" asked Deputy Valden, putting in a more
leisurely appearance.
"Something right in your line," Dick answered. "Dave and Greg
are holding down Tag Mosher."
"You're not fooling, are you?" demanded the deputy.
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