"Come back," laughed Dave, "and make a fair start."
But Dick kept on, laughing back at his distanced comrades. Prescott ran like a deer, as was to be expected from one who had played left end on the invincible Gridley High School eleven.
Just as he bounded on to the camp ground Dick's glance fell on a packing box some four feet long.
"This doesn't belong here," he muttered, bounding forward, then dropping on one knee beside the box.
In amazed wonder he read the following inscription, from a card tacked to the box:
"Will Dick Prescott accept the enclosed and keep it as trustee for Dick & Co.? From a most appreciative friend—-two of them, in fact!"
"Now, what on earth can this be?" Dick demanded, as Dave reached his side.
Darry read the message on the card with growing wonder.
"Greg," directed Dick, "trot into the camp and get a hammer and the cold chisel. Hustle!"
Full of curiosity, Greg Holmes carried out the order at a run.