The scare was the topic of conversation all through the dinner hour, and it was decided that a letter should be posted to Mr. Aaron Poole the following morning, acquainting him with what had occurred.
"It's queer that my husband and Ben and Mr. Porter don't come," remarked Mrs. Basswood, when the meal was nearly over and it was growing dark.
"It's quite a walk to Carpen Falls," said Dave. "And you must remember the trail isn't any too good in some spots."
"I think I see them coming now," announced Roger, a minute later; and he was right. Soon Ben and his father and Dunston Porter came into full view near the end of the lake.
"Talk about an adventure!" cried Ben, as they came up. "Who do you think we met?"
"The wild man!" burst out several of those present.
"Oh, then he was here, was he? Was it Wilbur Poole?"
"We are not so sure about that. We didn't get a very good look at him. He had on such a queer outfit that he was completely disguised."
"That's just it!" broke in Dunston Porter. "We couldn't tell who he was, either. He appeared right in front of us on the trail, flourishing a big stick. He let out a whoop like an Indian, gave a leap or two into the air, and then dashed out of sight behind some bushes."
"He didn't attack you, did he?" questioned Mrs. Basswood, anxiously.