But that suggestion did not prove popular.
"I mean it," Reade insisted. "I hardly care, now, whether I eat any breakfast or not."
"What's that noise below? Come on!" called Prescott, landing and running along the bank. Tom was close behind him, the others following.
In their search for Tom they had gotten farther away from the wagon than they realized. During their brief absence from the spot two tramps had come upon the camp wagon and the piles of discarded clothing. It was plain that the wagon contained all that was needed for several meals—-and the tramps were hungry.
Yet the only safe way to enjoy that food would be to partake of it at a safe distance from the rightful owners.
For that reason, after a few whispered words, the tramps hastily gathered up all the clothing of the high school swimmers, dumping it in the wagon. Then they mounted to the seat.
Just as Dick Prescott and his chums broke from cover they beheld the tramps in the act of driving from the woods out on the road.
Once in the road the tramps urged the horse to a gallop. It was out of the question for the boys, clad as they were in only swimming trunks to pursue the thieves.
"I—-I—-take back all I said about not wanting any breakfast!" gasped Tom Reade, turning to his dismayed chums.