doctor's son. "I say," he called out, "what do you mean by heaving
that wo-----"

Crash! From the interior of the cabin came another chunk of wood,
a gnarled root, just grazing Shep's shoulder. Then a stone followed,
striking Whopper a glancing blow on the hip. Both lads retreated in
confusion.

"Well, of all things!" gasped the doctor's son when he could get his
breath. "That's a cordial welcome, I must say."

"Have you any idea who it was?"

"Not the slightest. It was too dark to see anybody."

"Couldn't be any of the Ham Spink crowd?"

"No. I don't think they'd treat us in just that way."

"Maybe it's some crazy chap."

"That's more like it---some hermit like old Peter Peterson," returned
Shep, referring to an old man who lived near the lakes and who
rarely showed himself in any of the settlements.

"Peter Peterson wasn't crazy; he didn't heave things at folks."

"Let us see if we can get him to come out. I'd like to see what sort
of a chap he is."