The bell-boy now led them through an orchard.
"There seem to be a lot of apples on the ground," remarked Prescott, halting.
"Green ones—-they're no good," replied the bell-boy.
"Then they are good—-just what we want!" ejaculated Prescott.
"Hold on, fellows! Fill your hats with these apples."
"What are you going to do when you come upon these fellows?" asked the bell-boy.
"Scuttle 'em—-the way they did our tent!" Tom retorted.
"I hope you pay them back generously," muttered the bell-boy. "I've a score to settle with them for trying to blacken good old Saunders! But see here! Up to date, at least, they're guests of the hotel, and I'm an employe there. Now, if they get too much the better of matters in a scrimmage, I'll sail in with you boys, even though I have to resign my hotel job. But, if I see that you can handle 'em all right, I shall just stand by without taking any part in the fight"
"We understand your position, and appreciate it," Dick replied. "We thank you, too, but we believe that we can take care of them all by ourselves. If we can't, then we'll take our drubbing."
"You boys have done some things in athletics, haven't you?" asked the bell-boy, noting the way that each of the five present members of Dick & Co. carried himself.
"Gridley High School football team last season," Dick replied, a trace of justifiable pride in his voice.