"He must be hungry," rejoined d.i.c.k, "when he could get away with all that steak and then come back, within a few hours, for more of our food."

"How did you come to catch him?" Dave asked curiously.

Prescott explained how he had managed to remain awake and on guard, against a possible second visit from the young prowler.

"So we've got to stay up the rest of the night, and mount guard every night, have we?" grunted Darry disgustedly. "Fine!"

"We'll either have to watch, or part with our food," d.i.c.k a.s.sented.

"We ought to have brought Harry Hazelton's bull-dog. That would have spared us guard duty."

"I'm glad we didn't bring the pup," d.i.c.k rejoined. "That pup is growing older, and crosser. He'd bite a pound or two out of some prowler's leg, and we don't want that to happen."

"Why not?" demanded Dave grimly, opening his eyes very wide.

d.i.c.k laughed softly by way of answer.

"I'd just as soon have a tramp chewed up as have our food supplies vanish," Darry maintained.

"Little David, your temper has the upper hand of you at this moment,"

laughed Prescott.

"When that temper is on top you're dangerous---almost bloodthirsty.

When your temper is in check you're as kind and gentle as any good-natured fellow. You wouldn't really want to see any human being mangled by a bull-pup's teeth."

"Well, maybe not mangled," Darry agreed. "But I don't believe Harry's pup would do any more than take hold---and keep hold."

"We won't have the pup, anyway," d.i.c.k replied, in a low voice.

"Why not?" Dave again demanded.

"Because, as you know well enough, Harry's father was afraid the pup would only get us into trouble by chewing up someone, and so declined to let us bring the dog."

"That was a shame," Dave insisted.

"I don't think so. If six of us can't take care of one stray tramp, not much larger than any of us, then we're too tender, and ought to be sleeping in little white cribs at home."

"Oh, stop that talk!" urged Dave.

"I mean what I said," d.i.c.k retorted. "We're big enough, and numerous enough, to guard our own camp."

"Of course we are; but we'll have to give up some sleep to accomplish that," Dave contended.

"Whoever loses sleep in the night time can make it up in the day time. And now, Darry, get to bed!"

"But we've got to remain on watch."

"You'll feel bad, in the morning, if deprived of your sleep.

I'll stay up for a while yet, and then call Tom Reade."

"So I'm no good for guard duty, eh?" snorted Darry.

"Not a bit," said d.i.c.k cheerfully. "You're as sleepy and as cross as can be, right at this minute. Go and tuck in, Davy."

Darrin snorted again, then glared at d.i.c.k's placid face. Suddenly Dave broke into a hearty chuckle, slapping his chum on the back.

"You're all right, d.i.c.k," he declared. "You know how to keep your temper, talk smoothly, and yet hit harder than if you used a club. No, sirree! I'm not cross, even though I may be tired.

I'm not cross, and I can thrash into subjection any fellow who dares hint that I'm cross, or that my temper is on a rampage.

You go and turn in, d.i.c.k."

"Not yet."

"Then we'll both stay up and watch together."

"I'll tell you what," proposed d.i.c.k.

"Well?"

"Bring your cot out here. I'll let you sleep for an hour by my watch. Then I'll call you, and you hold the watch and let me sleep for an hour. There is no sense in both of us losing our rest at the same time. Yet, if either fellow needs the other, he'll have him right under his hand."

"All right," nodded Dave. "Anything, as long as I'm not accused of being a sleepy head."

"A sleepy head?" Prescott repeated. "Why, when I called to you fellows for help you were the only one who responded. No; I wouldn't call you an incurable sleepy head, Darry."

Now wholly restored to good humor Dave went back into the tent, lifting his cot and bringing it out to within a few feet of the campfire.

"You take the first nap, d.i.c.k," begged Dave.

"No; you take it."

"But I'm not sleepy; honestly I'm not."

So Prescott lay down on the cot, closing his eyes.

The sunlight, streaming into his face, awakened him.

"Why---why---where's Darry?" thought d.i.c.k, sitting up straight.

The sound of deep breathing answered him. Dave sat with his back propped against a tree, sound asleep. He had slept for hours, evidently, having fallen asleep through sheer, uncontrollable drowsiness.

Rising from the cot d.i.c.k stretched himself for he was still drowsy.

Then he tip-toed over to where the food was stored, peering in.

"I can't see that our friend, the enemy, has been here again,"

d.i.c.k smiled. He glanced at Darry, but did not awake that tired youngster.

As noiselessly as he could Prescott busied himself with starting a small campfire that could be made larger when needed. This done, he set water to boil.

"Ho-hum!" yawned Tom Reade, dressed only in underclothes and trousers, as he stood in the tent doorway half an hour later.