The camping-out spot was reached that afternoon at five o'clock. The provision wagon and that loaded with the tents had already come up, and soon the cadets were putting up their tents, while the cooking detail was preparing supper. The evening meal consisted of nothing but bread, coffee, and beef stew, but never did plain fare taste better, with such pure mountain air for sauce.
"It's just boss!" said Tom on the second day in camp. "Living in a tent suits me to death."
The next day, however, he changed his tune, for it rained in torrents, and everybody got soaked to the skin.
"Ugh!" said Tom. "I wasn't thinking of this when I said it suited me to death." All made the best of it, and luckily the storm did not last over twenty-four hours, when the sun came out warmly, and that was the last of the rain while the encampment lasted.
A week had passed by when one afternoon Dick, Tom, and Sam received permission to visit the town of Rootville, a mile away. They were not to be gone not over three hours, and were to purchase some medicine needed by several cadets who had taken cold during the damp spell.
The boys walked to Rootville in high spirits, and readily procured the drugs desired, then they wandered around from place to place, taking in the sights.
There was a depot, and as natural they drifted thither, and into the waiting room. Here almost the first persons they saw was Arnold Baxter and Buddy the tramp thief.
"Gracious!" burst from Dick's lips, and then he pulled Tom and Sam back. "Here is a chance at last to arrest that thief!"
"That's so!" cried Tom. "Wait, I saw a policeman outside. I'll call him," and he darted off. While Dick and Sam awaited Tom's reappearance, they noticed that Baxter and Buddy were holding a conversation of great interest.
"I will pay you well if you will help me in this deal," Arnold
Baxter was saying.