Chapter VIII: Old Acquaintances

For a moment the lad stood there at the flap of the tent, pondering over the situation. He realized that he might have a desperate character to deal with--a man who would not listen to reason, and who was impulsive, as evidenced by his leap into the water after the motorboat.

“But I’ve got to do something,” thought Tom. “If I don’t he may take a shot at us, not meaning to do any harm, but just because he’s erratic. And that sort of a bullet does just as much harm as any other. If he should fire into the tent----”

Tom did not finish out his thought, for at that moment there was a movement on the part of the old man. He had been standing still, silently regarding the camp, and now he again advanced.

“He’s going to see what sort of a place we have here,” mused Tom. “I wonder if I’d better awaken the boys?”

He thought it over for a moment and then decided that perhaps he could best deal with the old man alone.

“But how?” he asked himself.

Tom watched the hermit. He came on with a tread like that of a cat--silently--stealthily--peering from side to side. At times he muttered to himself.

“I’ll see if I can take him by surprise,” decided Tom. Stepping back, where he could not be seen, inside the tent, our hero suddenly yelled:

“Get out of here! What are you doing in our camp? Be off before I set the dogs on you!”

The old man was evidently startled. He stiffened as he stood, but Tom was glad to see that he did not bring the gun to bear. From under the shaggy eyebrows the hermit gazed about him as if to determine whence came the voice.

But if Tom had any idea that he could frighten the man into going away he was mistaken. For the hermit of the mill came forward until he stood directly in front of the big tent, and then, straightening up, he fairly shouted:

“Ha! I have found you; have I? Those who brought their infernal puffing engine on my lake. Now you are in my woods. I have been looking for you. I warn you away! You must leave at once! I will not be cheated out of my fortune this way. Leave my woods or it will be the worse for you!” and he shook his fist at Tom, who had now stepped into view at the flap of the tent.

“Hello! What’s the row?” called Jack, suddenly awakening.

“Is the camp on fire?” asked Dick.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” cried Bert, and all three of our hero’s chums sprang from their cots and crowded around him.

“It’s our old friend the hermit of the mill,” explained Tom in a low voice. “He’s come to drive us out of the woods.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know. Let’s see what he does.”

“He may be dangerous,” commented Dick.

“And these may be his woods,” added Bert.

“Nonsense,” declared Tom. “I asked dad about it before I came up, and he said this part of the forest belonged to a big lumber company that was holding it for the trees to get bigger before cutting. This old man doesn’t own it any more than we do.”

“Then you’re going to stick?”

“I sure am!”

During this talk the old hermit remained motionless, regarding the boys with angry eyes. Then he spoke again.

“Well, are you going to take yourselves out of my woods? Are you going to leave at once? I demand that you go!”

“No, sir, we are not going,” declared Tom, firmly but respectfully, for after all, he thought the age of the man was entitled to some deference.

“You must leave my woods!” the hermit insisted. “I have been bothered enough in the search for the fortune hidden from me. I want to be alone in my woods. Go!” and he pointed his finger toward Wilden.

“I do not think you have the right to make us go,” said Tom. “I understand these are not your woods, and we have as good a right to camp here as you have to wander about. We are not going!”

For a few seconds the old man seemed dazed at the bold answer. Probably he had expected a meek compliance, but, as it developed, Tom’s answer was the best that could have been given.

Pausing a moment the hermit gazed almost reproachfully at the lads and then, with another shake of his fist at them, he called:

“Well, you have been warned, and now you must take the consequences. The price of your folly is on your own heads!”

He turned and vanished into the shadows of the woods.

“Whew! Quite dramatic!” exclaimed Tom, as he turned to his chums.

“I should say so,” agreed Jack. “Nice thing to be awakened from pleasant dreams and told to move on in a trackless forest at midnight. He’s as bad as Professor Skeel used to be.”

“Speaking of Skeel reminds me,” observed Tom. “Do you think he has come up here to camp?”

“Hard to say,” murmured Bert. “But I know one thing, as long as I’m awake I’m going to have something to eat. Are there any of those chicken sandwiches left, Dick?”

“I guess so. And there’s some cold tea.”

“Warm it up then, and we’ll have a lunch.”

“Say, what do you think this is; a quick-eat restaurant?” asked the amateur cook.

“Oh, go ahead,” suggested Tom. “We’ll all help, and maybe we’ll get to sleep again, after this interruption, if we eat.”

The oil stove was lighted, and the tea put on to warm, while Dick set out a plate of sandwiches he had made from canned chicken. Then the boys ate and talked.

“That old hermit is sure on our trail,” declared Tom.

“But he doesn’t seem to be as dangerous as the folks made out,” commented Jack.

“I guess he’s just simple-minded, thinking of the treasure in the old mill,” added Bert. “By the way, Tom, when are we going to visit the ruins, and have a try for the buried gold?” and he laughed.

“Oh, we’ll go over there some time,” agreed Tom. “I’d like to pick a day, though, when old Wallace wouldn’t be on hand. I’m not exactly afraid of him, but, from what I can understand, he does own the mill, though not these woods, and if he ordered us off that property we’d have to go.”

“But we can take a chance,” suggested Dick.

“Oh, sure,” came from Tom. “Say, but that old chap must spend all his time wandering about the woods. I wonder where he sleeps when he’s away from the mill?”

“Oh, he probably has plenty of bunks and caves that we never would dream of,” said Jack. “Well, I’m going to turn in,” he added, with a yawn. “If he comes back again kindly tell him, Tom, to wait until morning before doing any more ordering-off.”

Once more the lads sought their cots, to sleep undisturbed until morning. The day was spent in getting their camp more in ship-shape, and getting in a supply of wood for camp fires, and for cooking in case their oil gave out, or the portable stove failed.

In the afternoon they went fishing, and had good luck. Though they kept watch for the hermit, they did not see him. The woods and lake were as deserted as though they were in some country as yet unvisited by man, and there were no evidences that any camping parties had ever visited the region where the boys were.

“It sure is wild,” said Jack, as he gazed about.

“It’s just the cheese though,” declared Tom. “We couldn’t have picked out a better place.”

“And as soon as we get busy on the secret of the old mill there may be lots of happenings,” added Bert.

A week passed, during which our friends enjoyed life to the utmost. They fished, and as the lake had seldom been visited by devotees of the rod and line it proved a garden spot for such sport. One had but to throw in a line to have a bite. They hunted, too, but as the season was not open they managed to kill only a few foxes and skunks, and, as their fur was not of much value in the summer, even this they gave up as rather unprofitable work.

“It’s the mill we want to head for,” insisted Jack. “Come on, Tom, let’s get up an expedition and go there. We can go in the boat, for, as you say, the mill is on the river that runs into the lake. Come on.”

“All right, we’ll go to-morrow,” agreed Tom.

Accordingly, having set their camp to rights, and having put up a lunch, for they would not be back to dinner, they set off in the _Tag_, heading up the lake to where the river entered it.

“She’s running better than she did at home,” remarked Dick to Tom, as he looked at the puffing motor.

“Yes, but don’t say anything,” cautioned our hero. “She may be holding back for a kick-up. I never praise this motor, for I actually believe it knows what you say. Let well enough alone,” and the others laughed at his quaint conceit.

It was a beautiful day, and the trip along the lake was much enjoyed. It was rather lonesome, but the boys did not mind that.

As they moved along the shore of a little cove Jack suddenly called:

“Hold on! I think I heard something moving near the bank there,” and he pointed just ahead.

“Slow down the engine,” called Tom to Dick, and the latter throttled down, making the machinery almost noiseless. Then they all heard a crashing in the underbrush.

“Maybe it’s the hermit,” suggested Bert.

“Very likely,” agreed Jack. “I hope he doesn’t begin on one of his tantrums again.”

The sounds in the bushes grew, and a moment later three figures suddenly stepped into view on the sandy beach of the lake.

“Look!” exclaimed Tom in a low voice. “If this isn’t the limit!”

All four boys gazed toward the figures, to behold their old acquaintances, Professor Skeel, Sam Heller and Nick Johnson!