Once more Dick & Co. had their camp all to themselves.

“I wish we could have such visitors every day,” cried Darry enthusiastically.

“Yes,” grinned Tom, “but how long would our canned goods hold out?  We’d have to be rich, fellows, to entertain so many people every day, even if the meat end of the feast did come to us without cost.”

“We want to make the camp shipshape again,” Dick remarked, looking about.  “There’s a lot of refuse food to be burned.  Greg, you start a fire.  Dan you gather up every scrap of food that must be thrown away and burn it on said fire.  Dave, you can set the tent to rights.  I’ll take an axe and hustle after some firewood.  Dave, suppose you help me.  Tom might put the camp to rights.”

With the labor thus divided all hands set briskly to work.  By the time that all the tasks had been performed the boys were glad to lie down on the grass and rest until it was time to prepare a light supper.  After that meal was over Dave asked: 

“We’re going to keep regular guard to-night, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Dick answered.  “We’ll turn in at nine o’clock and keep guard until six in the morning.  That will be nine hours—–­an hour and a half of guard duty for each fellow.  Suppose we draw lots to decide the order in which we shall take our tricks of guard duty.”

This was done.  To Prescott fell the second tour, from ten-thirty until midnight.  Reade had the first tour.

At a few minutes after nine all was quiet in the camp.  Five tired high school boys were soon sound asleep, with Reade, hidden in the deep shadows, watching outside.

It seemed to young Prescott that he had no more than dropped off into slumber when Tom shook him by the shoulder.

“Half-past ten,” whispered Reade, as Dick sat up.  “Go out to the wash basin and dash cold water into your eyes.  That will open ’em and freshen you up.”

“Have you seen anything of the prowler?” whispered Dick, as he got upon his feet.

“Not a sign,” declared Tom.

“It would be too early for him to prowl about yet,” whispered Dick, as he passed out into the Summer night.  “Good night, Tom.”

Only a faint stirring of the light breeze in the tree tops, the droning hum of night insects, and the occasional call of a night bird—–­these were all the sounds that came to the ears of the young camp guard.

Dick dashed the water into his eyes, then felt wonderfully wide awake.

“If Mr. Prowler comes, he’ll probably go for the canned vegetables and the biscuit,” Prescott decided.  “He must already have more meat than he can handle all day to-morrow—–­if it doesn’t spoil.”

So Dick posted himself where he could easily watch the approach of any outsider toward the boxes that served as cupboards for the canned supplies.

The time slipped away, until it was nearly midnight, as Prescott knew from stepping into the tent and lighting a match briefly for a swift glimpse at his watch.