“Sure thing, Blake!  But I guess you won’t have any trouble in putting me down and out.”

“Cut out the modesty!” laughed Blake.  “It was all I could do to beat you yesterday, and you know it.”

So another court was soon occupied, with Dick Bellamy scoring.  Dick belonged to the Otter patrol, and as Alec Sands, who formerly captained the Otters, was not going to be in camp that summer, Dick was Tom Sherwood’s only rival for the leadership.  Already the Otters had held informal discussions of Dick’s and Tom’s qualifications, but it was still uncertain which of the two would be elected.  Each was popular and had a good record in woodcraft, athletics, and scout games.  Another question was:  Who would be chosen for leader of the Wolf patrol, in the absence of Hugh Hardin and his chum, Billy Worth, that summer?

“Rough or smooth?” called Blake, tossing his racket in the air.

“Rough,” answered Cooper.

“Smooth it is,” the other declared, with a grin.  “I’ll take serve.”

Blake had a peculiar and difficult cut on which he prided himself in serving.  It was seldom that anyone could touch it until after he had played with Blake for some time, and Cooper was no exception to the rule.

“Fifteen love,” announced Dick from the barrel.

They crossed the court, and Blake tried the cut once more.  This time Cooper was ready for it and sent it back with a swift underhand drive, and a rally began right at the start.  The game promised to be a good one and it drew many interested watchers, though most of the boys had followed Rawson and the two patrol leaders over to the hotel.

Cooper won the first game, and the second was in progress, when the attention of some of their companions was drawn to a horse and buggy driven by two boys, appearing on the brow of the hill and coming along the road which skirted the tennis courts.  The occupants of the buggy were Tom Sherwood and Art Cameron, and as they drew near they were hailed with shouts of delight.

“Oh, you farmer!”

“Hayseed, where’ve you been planted?”

“Welcome to our city!”

“Come over here and get next to this game.”

They did so, after tying Keno to a post and giving him his noonday rations which they had brought with them from the farm.  The story of the championship match that had just been played was related to them in full detail; they in turn stated the errand on which they had come.

“You know we’ve been staying at Ralph Kenyon’s farm, having a great time,” Tom, explained.  “Well, last night, after Art and I had gone to bed, some mean cuss, a thief, got into the house, attacked Ralph—–­who’s one of the best fellows on earth, boys—–­and stole some money Ralph had been saving.  In the tussle we managed to grab a piece of his coat and his tie, and we’ve come over to put them in the hands of the Oakvale constable, to see if he can identify them.”