"
Even before he secured his first glimpse of camp, Harry heard
some one moving about there.
"The rascal must feel pretty sure that we're both fools enough
to be away," quivered Hazelton indignantly. "What on earth is
he doing, anyway?"
Then the young engineer crawled in close enough to get an excellent
view of what was going on.
"Well, of all the impudence!" choked Harry, balancing a stone
nicely in his right hand.
First of all the visitor had rounded up all the firewood into
one heap. Now, to this combustible material the fellow was bringing
a side of bacon and a small bag of flour. These he dropped on
the firewood, then went back for more of the camp's food supply.
"Just wait," scowled Hazelton. "Oh, my fine fellow, I'll make
your hands too hot for holding other people's property!"
Over the brush arched a stone. Hazelton had been a pitcher in
his high school days, and no mistake. The descending stone fell
smack across the back of the fellow's right hand.
"That's right! Howl!" cried Harry, exultantly.
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