For the others, the days had been full of football training, with long tramps and fishing and berrying jaunts thrown in for amusement. Now that Tag Mosher was safely locked up in the county jail there had been no more raids on the food supplies of the camp. It was now necessary, therefore, to leave but one boy at a time in the camp, and Dick, while his hip was mending, had usually been that one. Every member of Dick & Co. was brown as a berry. Muscles, too, were beginning to stand out with a firmness that had never been observed at home in the winter time. Enough more of this camping and hard work and training, and Dick & Co. were likely to return to Gridley as six condensed young giants. Nothing puts the athlete in shape as quickly as does camping, combined with training, in the summer time. This morning the work had begun with practice kicks, passing from that to the work of tackling the dummy. Two hours of hard work had now been put in, and all were comfortably tired. "Let's keep quiet and cool off," urged Dick at last. "Then for the swimming pool and clean clothes." "I wonder if Tag has died yet, as he expected to, now that he's out of the forest and locked up in a jail?" mused Tom Reade aloud. "He must be in fearfully depressed spirits," muttered Dick sympathetically. Dave Darrin regarded his chum curiously. "Dick, you seem to have a positive sympathy for that fellow." "I have," Prescott avowed promptly. "You even seem to like him," pressed Darry. "I do like him," Dick assented. "Darry, I believe that a lot of good might be found in Tag Mosher if he could have the same chance that most other fellows have. Usually, when a fellow says he has had no chance in life, the fact really is that he has been too lazy to take his chance. But I don't believe that Tag ever had a real, sure-enough chance. He has spent his days with a drunkard and a vagabond." "Yet Tag has been to school," objected Tom Reade. "Tag talks like a fellow who has had a very fair amount of schooling. Schools teach something more than mere book lessons. They give a fellow some of the first principles of truth and honor. Despite his schooling, however, Tag prefers to steal as a means of supplying all his needs. And now, at last, he is in jail, charged, perhaps, with killing a fellow being." "I wonder if Mr. Leigh is dead yet?" mused Dick. "I like being off here in the deep forest like this, but there's one drawback. We don't hear much news." "What news do you want?" asked a familiar voice behind him. Soft-footed Deputy Simmons stalked into the circle. "We were just wondering, Mr. Simmons," spoke Prescott, rising, "if Mr. Leigh is dead yet?" "Not yet," replied the peace officer, "but the doctors say that he is likely to die any day now." "Then will Tag be charged with manslaughter---or murder?" "He may be charged with murder, if we can catch him," replied the deputy. "If you can ca-----Why, what's up?" asked Dick eagerly.