CHAPTER XIV

Thrashing an ambulance case!

“I want you to stand right where you are until some of my friends come,” Dick made answer.

Then he braced himself for the violent assault that, he felt, was sure to come.  To his intense astonishment, however, Tag heaved a sigh of dejection, then muttered: 

“I may as well do it.  You owe me a grudge, anyway, and you’ve got the upper hand this time.”

What on earth could it mean?  For a brief instant Dick almost believed that the exciting incidents of the night had been but parts of a dream.  But he raised his voice to shout: 

“Dave!  Oh, Dave!  Come here!  You, too, Greg.”

“Coming,” came the call, in Darry’s voice.  The sound of running feet sounded on the road.

Tag Mosher glanced uneasily about, as if meditating flight.  Then his keen eyes scrutinized Prescott’s face.

“What’s up?” demanded Dave, as, even in the darkness he caught sight of another figure.

“Darry,” smiled Dick, “I wish to present my friend, Mr. Tag Mosher.”

“What?” gasped Darrin.  “This Tag Mosher.  By Jove, it is, it?  How on earth did you make him wait for us?”

Then, all in a flying heap Dave projected himself against young Mosher, clinching with him and bearing him down to the ground.  In order to make doubly sure Greg joined in the assault.  But Tag, though he struggled, did not put up much of a fight.

“Quit!” he ordered sullenly.  “I’m all in.  Can’t you fellows see that?  But if I hadn’t been sick I’d either have gotten away, or would have given you fellows a fight that you’d never forget!”

Quick-witted Dave was not long in discovering that Tag really was weak, as though from a recent illness.

“Say,” demanded Darry, “have we been exerting ourselves to thrash an ambulance case?” His voice rang with self disgust.

“If I’d been a well one,” growled Tag, “you never would have put me down, or held me.  But I’m like a kitten to-night——­strength all gone!”

“What’s going on here?” asked Deputy Valden, putting in a more leisurely appearance.

“Something right in your line,” Dick answered.  “Dave and Greg are holding down Tag Mosher.”

“You’re not fooling, are you?” demanded the deputy.  “You’re not making any mistake, either?”

“We know Tag Mosher when we see him,” Darry retorted.  “We’ve good enough reason for knowing him.”

With his uninjured left hand Deputy Valden reached for his pair of handcuffs, passing them to Dave.

“Here you are, Darrin,” said the officer.  “You know how to put these things on, don’t you?”

“I can figure the job out, sir,” Dave made reply.

Tag submitted, wearily, to having the steel bracelets snapped over his wrists.  Then he heaved a sigh that had something of a sob in it.