better shape, and making the beds more comfortable. The boys were in the habit of making up a camp fire early in the evening, and sitting in the glow of it to talk. They did this on their second night, and when it had about died down Tom tossed on some heavy sticks of wood and remarked:

“Well, I’m going to turn in. I’m tired and I[59] want some sleep. To-morrow we’ll take a long boat ride.”

[59]

“When are we going to the old mill?” asked Jack.

“Oh, maybe we can try that soon if we like,” said Tom.

It was nearly midnight, as Tom ascertained by looking at his watch, when he was suddenly awakened by hearing something moving about near the sleeping tent. At first he thought it was one of his chums, and he called out:

“Who’s that? You, Jack?”

There was no answer, and, looking across to the other cots, our hero saw the forms of his companions under the covers. They were all quiet.

“There’s some one out there,” he murmured.

Rising cautiously he stepped to the flap of the canvas shelter and peered out. In the dying glow of the camp fire he saw an old man silently walking toward the tents.

“For gracious sake!” breathed Tom to himself. “If that isn’t the old hermit of the mill I’m a lobster! I wonder what he’s doing here?”

With anxious eyes he watched, and as the moon came out from behind a cloud, to add to the glow of the campfire, Tom saw the light glint on a gun.

“He’s looking for us!” whispered Tom. “I wonder what I’d better do?”

[60]

[60]

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——”

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