“He’s a fierce character,” declared Bert. “The less we see of him the better.”
“And you don’t catch me monkeying around any mysterious old mill, if a fellow like that lives in it,” added Dick.
“You said he had a gun, too, didn’t you, Tom?” asked Jack.
“That’s what I heard, but maybe it’s a mistake. He didn’t have one this time, anyhow.”
The boys discussed their odd experience as they motored along, and soon they were back where they had left their camp stuff. It had not been disturbed, and there was no sign that the hermit had taken a short cut through the woods to get to their location, as Tom had half feared he might do.
“Now to get busy!” exclaimed our hero as they landed at the improvised dock. “There’s lots to do. In the first place we’ll have an election.”
“What for?” asked Jack.
“To choose a cook. We’ve got to eat, and some one has to cook. We’ll take turns at it.”
They selected a cook by the simple process of drawing lots, and the choice fell upon Dick, who made a wry face about it.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom, with a laugh.