“The gang is at work, doing all the damage they can to the mayor’s front lawn. We want to try and round them up in a hurry,” Hugh explained.
“How many are there of them?” asked Bud, not that he cared what the answer might be for fear of consequences, but only for general information and interest.
“I forgot to ask Arthur about that,” declared Hugh, turning to the scout in question and adding, “How about it?”
“We saw three of them at work,” replied the other, just as Monkey joined him, “and there may have been yet another keeping watch on the street so as to let them know if the cops were coming.”
“Did they see you running away?” asked the scout leader.
“We tried to keep from showing ourselves, but even if they did, chances are they think we were heading for downtown to tell the police,” Arthur replied.
“Well, what we want to do is to get into the Simmons place, next door to the mayor’s, and climb through the hedge. Then we’ll try to lay our plans so as to close in around one particular chap and gobble him,” Hugh explained in a low voice.
“But what if he shows fight? Do we lick him into subjection?” asked Bud, acting as though ready to roll up his sleeves and pitch in.
“Don’t hit him any more than you can help,” warned Hugh. “It might reflect on us as scouts if we gave him a black eye. People would say we were only the same old brand of fighters under a new name. But hold on tight, and if you can only get him down, sit on him. That ought to be enough to tell you what to do.”
“Leave it to us, Hugh,” said Bud Morgan with a chuckle. “We’ll do our level best to convince the chap he ought to stop over awhile with us, and find out if the water is still as warm as it was last month.”