"We are bound for our camp," answered Whopper.
"Oh, so you've got a camp around here?"
"We have one on the other side of the cove—over yonder, where you can see the smoke drifting above the trees."
"I wish you'd take me over to it, boys. I can't stay here—I feel too sick."
"What's the matter with you?"
"I don't know—only I get sharp, shooting pains now and then across my back."
Whopper and Shep looked at each other. They had no desire for the companionship of such a disreputable looking person, yet they did not wish to see the tramp suffer.
"What's your name?" questioned Whopper. "And where do you belong?"
"My real name is Kidlaw Leech, but most of my friends call me Kiddy for short. I came from—er—New York, but I have been up to Fairview and other places looking for work. Yesterday I started to walk to the next town, but I reckon I got lost on the road, and I fetched up here."
"You must have tramped a good distance," answered the doctor's son. He was far from being favorably impressed by the tramp.