But Elmer did not take much stock in either of these theories. He was inclined to look upon the unknown as a friend, one of the fellows from Hickory Ridge, who had come out to join them for the last day of their stay on the Sweetwater.
That was why he listened so keenly, for he hoped to catch some familiar sound calculated to tell the identity of the dusky figure below.
The drone of voices from around the fire came to his ears, telling that his four chums had taken his advice, and were acting as though they had no particular interest in those queer noises.
Now the figure below seemed to straighten up, and Elmer knew he meant to throw another stone, perhaps a second volley that would rattle like shot as they came down on the surface of the running water.
And as he heaved them forth, the party below gave vent to a peculiar little grunt or wheeze that was very familiar to the ears of Elmer Chenowith.
"Hello, there, George! Having a great time, I see, amusing yourself!" he said, in a low, but plainly heard tone.
There was a moment of silence, as though the unknown was somewhat taken aback by the fact of his having been caught so neatly, even in the act.
"That you, Elmer?" he asked, with a short laugh.
"That's who it is, George," the other replied. "Suppose you come up out of that, now, and surrender. There's a penalty attached to this thing of trying to scare us. Do you know what you've got to do now to make good?"
"No, what's that, Elmer?" asked the boy, who was climbing up the bank by now, and who happened to be a cousin to Landy Smith, known among his mates as "Doubting George," simply because he could not help appearing skeptical about nearly everything that came along.