"Hullo, who are you?" asked Tom, as quickly as he could recover from his surprise.
"If you want to know real bad, youngster, my name is Lemuel Husty."
"I don't know you."
"But I know you—leas'wise I know of you," went on Husty, with a frown. "You're down on my friend Baxter, aint you?"
"If we are, we have a good reason to be," came from Sam.
"Perhaps you have, and then again, perhaps you haven't. It aint no nice thing to be cotched spying, though."
"We weren't spying. We came up quite by accident."
"You can tell that to the monkeys, but you can't tell it to me," growled Lemuel Husty. Then he raised his voice: "I say, Baxter! I say, you fellows! Come over here!"
The three around the camp-fire looked up in surprise, and were even more surprised when Husty waved his hand for them to come to him.
"What's wanted?" demanded Dan Baxter.
"I've found two of your very intimate friends spying on you," answered Husty.
"I guess we had better get out," whispered Sam to Tom, not liking the turn affairs had taken.
"I'm with you," returned Tom.
