"It does, as long as Tag Mosher is at large, sir. Harry, won't you go over to the doctor's camp and stay there until the chauffeur returns?"
"Yes," agreed Hazelton.
"If you sight Tag, or any other doubtful-looking characters, just give a yell, and we'll all come over."
"Would that young scamp bother our camp, really?" inquired the physician.
"Certainly he would," Dick went on promptly. "Mosher, Page, or whoever he really is, is just as natural an anarchist as the world ever saw. He has never had anything of his own, and whenever he sees anyone else's property that will serve him, he just says, 'Tag, you're It!' That's the way he got his nickname."
"I believe I'll go over with Harry and see if anything is missing," declared Dr. Bentley. "In the meantime, Prescott, suppose you and your squad rest until I return. Just make yourselves agreeable to the girls. I'll endeavor to be back promptly. When I come back I shall be prepared to offer you some training suggestions that may be of value to you."
So the flushed young athletes rested, except Harry, who departed with the physician.
In fifteen minutes Dr. Bentley returned.
"Your warning came too late, Prescott," announced Laura's father cheerily. "Our camp has been visited."
"Tag Mosher?" gasped Prescott.