was heard above the camp. Then down the slope strode three figures.

Dick sat up, regarding the visitors in silence until they came
within the fringe of the light of the campfire.

"Hello, Dodge," was Prescott's ready greeting. "I didn't hear
you knock."

"Then maybe you will, before long," retorted Bert, in a voice
of barely suppressed fury. "Prescott, you sneak, how long since
you have added grand larceny to your other bad habits?"

"Try that over again," requested Dick calmly. "I don't believe
I quite catch you."

"Yes, you do," Dodge retorted. "Come now, no lying about it."

"The nearest that I come to understanding you, as yet," Dick answered
in an unruffled voice, "is that you appear to be trying to be
offensive."

"I'll be more than offensive with you, before I get through!"
cried Bert, his temper rising.

The third member of the visiting party was a man of about forty
years, of sandy complexion and with a stubby, bristling red moustache.
He looked like a man who had been born a fighter, though his
face expressed keen attention rather than a desire to be quarrelsome.
In dress this man looked as though he might be a farmer. Dick
and his friends judged the man to be a rustic constable.