"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."
"He'll come, in time, when he gets your letter at the Eagle House," Reade had answered, for Dick had told all his chums his suspicions regarding young Mosher.
"What are we to do this afternoon?" asked Dave, seating himself beside Prescott as three of the chums started for the swimming pool.
"Gymnastics," Dick replied. "Especially bar work. And some boxing, of course."
"You ought to be excused from boxing for the present," grinned
Darry. "You look as though you had had enough for a while."
For Dick's left cheek was still decorated with a bruise that young Mosher had planted there. The boxing of Dick & Co., this summer, was real work. It was done with bare knuckles, though, of course, without anger or the desire to do injury. Boxing with bare knuckles was Prescott's own idea for hardening himself and his chums for the rough work of the gridiron.
"I'll take my share of the boxing," Dick retorted. "Having a sore spot on my face will make me all the more careful in my guard."