He knew he must act with caution and so listened closely at the flap of the tent. Not a sound came from within. “Wonder if he is out?” mused the bully and opened the flap cautiously. Then he saw in a dim way that the tent was empty. “Maybe he is off on a lark,” said Ritter to himself. “Well, so much the better, although I’d like to put some of the money in the uniform he is wearing. When he is found out he’ll have to explain where he has been.” As the tent was empty Ritter did not hesitate to light a candle he carried. By the rays thus afforded he found Jack’s dress-suit case and in it stuffed some of the paper money. Then he took the young major’s extra uniform and placed some of the bills in the pockets and lining of that. He placed the last of the bills under the sheet on the cot. “Ritter, what are you up to?” The question came so unexpectedly that the bully jumped as if shot. He was on the point of blowing out the candle when it was snatched from his grasp. Swinging around, he found himself confronted by Jack, just returning from the conference with Bert Field. “Why, I—er—” stammered the bully. He was so dumbfounded he did not know what to say. “What did you hide on my cot, under the sheet?” went on the young major. “I—er—nothing.” “I saw you put something there. What was it?” “I didn’t put anything there,” answered Ritter stubbornly. “You let me go!” And he tried to brush past Jack. “This is my tent and you have no right in it,” cried the young major. “You give an account of yourself,” and now he caught the bully tightly by the arm. Hardly had he done this when with a cry of commingled alarm and rage the bully struck out, hitting Jack in the face. Then he broke loose, blew out the light, and ran out of the tent. CHAPTER XXVIII CAPTAIN PUTNAM HAS HIS SAY The young major was surprised, and for one instant he did not know what to do. But then he recovered his wits and dashed out after Ritter. He caught the bully making his way back of the tent, and putting out his foot sent the fellow sprawling. Then, before Ritter could arise, Jack sat on him. “You—you le—let m-me up!” gasped Ritter, who all but had the breath knocked out of him. “Le—let me up, do yo—you he—hear?” “I’ll let you up when you explain, not before!” cried Jack. “You were doing something in my tent. I want to know what it was.” Before Ritter could frame a reply—and it is doubtful if he had one ready—a cry came from the tent occupied by Pepper, Andy and Dale. “We’ve got you!” came in the voice of The Imp. “Stand where you are, Coulter!” “Let me go! Please let me go!” pleaded the voice of Nick Paxton. “Oh, let me go this time and I’ll never do wrong again!” “Hello, so the rest of your crowd are in this,” said Jack to Ritter. “I might have known it. Come with me, and don’t you try to run away, or I’ll give you the worst licking you ever had.”