“If you boys are thinking of sitting up to watch against another surprise, don’t bother about it,” advised Mr. Hartshorn.  “You’ve seen the very last that you’ll see of those rascals.  Men of that sort never have nerve enough to attempt a risky thing twice.”

“I’m going to put some wood in the stove and make coffee,” Danny Grin announced.

“Can’t we offer you a cup of coffee, gentlemen?” proposed Prescott.  “And sandwiches?  We have plenty of the fixings for sandwiches.”

The idea prevailed to such an extent that Dalzell put on a kettle of water to boil, while Tom and Dave began to slice bread and open tinned meats.

“I’m going to sit down on the ground and be comfortable,” declared one of the Fentonites, when coffee and food were passed around.

“Do you know, gentlemen,” said Tom Reade, as he munched a sandwich, “I’m beginning to like Fenton next to our own town of Gridley.”

“Fenton isn’t anywhere near as large a place as Gridley,” replied one of the guests.

“No; but for its size Fenton is a lively place,” Reade went on.  “There seems to be something happening here every minute.”

“That is when young fellows like you come along and start the ball rolling,” chuckled Farmer Hartshorn.  “There has been more excitement to-night in Fenton than I can remember during the last five years.  I’ve seen you play football, Prescott, and you’re a wonder at the game.  Yet what you did to-night for young Tom Drake is a bigger thing than winning a whole string of the greatest football games of the year.”

“Football is more exciting, though,” smiled Dick.

“Is it?” demanded Mr. Hartshorn.  “More exciting than what you’ve been through tonight?  Then I’ll never play football!  More excitement than you’ve had to-night isn’t healthful for any growing young fellow!”

For fully an hour these men of Fenton remained at the camp, talking with their young hosts, and, incidentally, picking up a lot of information about the sports and pastimes that most interest wide-awake boys of to-day.

At last, however, disclaiming the thanks offered by Dick & Co., the guests went away in the automobiles that had brought them, while Dick Prescott and his chums prepared to finish out the night’s rest.

CHAPTER XXIII

TIMMY, THE GENTLEMAN, AT HOME

“Oh, won’t life seem stale when we get back into the land of crowded business streets and schoolhouses?” grumbled Reade, as, perched on the seat of the camp wagon, he drove out onto the highway the next morning, followed by the other members of Dick & Co. on foot.

“No, sir!” Darry retorted.  “Life won’t seem stale on that account.  Instead, it will be brightened by the pleasant recollection of this summer’s fun, which is now so soon to be ended.”

“You’re not going through Fenton, are you, Dick?” asked Greg.