He had scarcely taken two steps when the tramp with the red beard caught him by the shoulder.
“Don’t go,” he said pointedly. “Come in an’ warm up. We’ve got a bit o’ a fire in there.”
“A fire?” queried Harry, not knowing what else to say. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll burn the barn down?”
“Not much! Even if she went, the buildin’ ain’t worth much. Come on in.”
The tramp had a firm grip on Harry’s arm by this time and now the other two got between Joe and the roadway.
It must be confessed that the two lads were much dismayed. As already noted, they knew that folks in that neighborhood had been waylaid by tramps in the past, and they now felt that a similar experience was in store for them. How to get out of such a dilemma was a serious question.
“We don’t want to stop with you,” said Joe, as sharply as he could, although his heart beat violently. “Let me pass, please.”
“But we ain’t goin’ to let yer pass just yet, young feller,” said one of the tramps. “Come on in an’ be sociable.”
“We don’t mean for to hurt ye!” put in another. “So don’t git scart. If ye belong down to Lakeport we’ll treat yer right.”
“We don’t wish to stay, I tell you,” went on Joe. “Let me pass, do you hear?”