"I wonder if that fellow Curtiss means to carry out his threat of getting even?" said Crawford as they made their way down the street arm in arm, for their homes were not far apart and both on Main Street.
"He's mean enough to attempt anything," rejoined Rob, "but I don't think he's got nerve enough to carry out any of his schemes. Hullo!" he broke off suddenly, "there he is now across the street by the post office, talking to Bill Bender and Sam Redding. I'll bet they are hatching up some sort of mischief. Just look at them looking at us. I'll bet a doughnut they were talking about us."
"Shouldn't wonder," agreed his companion. "By the way, I've got to go and see if there is any mail. Come on over."
The two lads crossed the street and as they entered the post office, although neither of them had much use for either of the bullies' two chums, they nodded to them pleasantly.
"You kids think you're pretty fine with your Eagle Patrol or whatever you call it, don't you," sneered Bill Bender, as they walked by. "I'll bet the smell of a little real powder would make your whole regiment run to cover."
"Don't pay any attention to him," whispered the young corporal to Rob, who doubled up his fists and flushed angrily at the sneering tone Jack Curtiss' friend had adopted.
Rob restrained his anger with an effort, and by the time they emerged from the post office the trio of worthies—who, as Rob had rightly guessed, had been discussing them—had moved on up the street.
"I had trouble with those kids myself this afternoon," remarked Jack Curtiss with a scowl, as they wended their way toward a shed in the rear of Bill Bender's home, which had been fitted tip as a sort of clubroom.
"What did they do to you?" incautiously inquired Sam Redding, a youth as big as the other two, but not so powerful. In fact he was used more or less as a tool by them.
"Do to me," roared the bully, "what did I do to them, you mean."