“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[63] the age of the man was entitled to some deference.

[63]

“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 

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