street arm
in arm, for their homes were not far apart and both on Main Street.

"He's mean enough to attempt anything," rejoined Rob, "but I don't
think he's got nerve enough to carry out any of his schemes. Hullo!"
he broke off suddenly, "there he is now across the street by the post
office, talking to Bill Bender and Sam Redding. I'll bet they are
hatching up some sort of mischief. Just look at them looking at us.
I'll bet a doughnut they were talking about us."

"Shouldn't wonder," agreed his companion. "By the way, I've got to go
and see if there is any mail. Come on over."

The two lads crossed the street and as they entered the post office,
although neither of them had much use for either of the bullies' two
chums, they nodded to them pleasantly.

"You kids think you're pretty fine with your Eagle Patrol or whatever
you call it, don't you," sneered Bill Bender, as they walked by. "I'll
bet the smell of a little real powder would make your whole regiment
run to cover."

"Don't pay any attention to him," whispered the young corporal to Rob,
who doubled up his fists and flushed angrily at the sneering tone Jack
Curtiss' friend had adopted.

Rob restrained his anger with an effort, and by the time they emerged
from the post office the trio of worthies--who, as Rob had rightly
guessed, had been discussing them--had moved on up the street.

"I had trouble with those kids myself this afternoon," remarked Jack
Curtiss with a scowl, as they wended their way toward a shed in the
rear of Bill Bender's home, which had been fitted tip as a sort of
clubroom.

"What did they do to you?" incautiously inquired Sam Redding, a youth
as big as the other two, but not so powerful. In fact he was used more
or less as a tool by them.

"Do to me," roared the bully, "what did I do to them, you mean."

"Well what did you do to them then?" asked Bill Bender, as they entered
the clubroom before referred to and he produced some cigarettes, which
all three had been strictly forbidden to smoke.

"Chased them off my land," rejoined the other, lighting a paper roll
and blowing out a cloud of smoke, "you should have seen them run. If
they want to play their fool games they've got to do it on the property
of folks who'll let them. They can't come on my land."

"You mean your father's, don't you?" put in the unlucky Sam Redding.

"Sam, you've got a head like a billiard ball," retorted the bully,
turning on the other, "it'll b