"A pretty good haul, after all," remarked Fred, with satisfaction.
"Don't you think it about time that we returned to that old Parkingham house?" questioned Jack, after the game had been placed in their bags.
"We might as well work around that way," answered Gif. "Remember, we'll have quite a tramp after that getting back to the Lodge."
They turned in the direction of the old house in the woods and on their way kept their eyes open for more game. But all they sighted were two small squirrels, and these they thought not worth shooting at.
They were just about to cross the mountain road not far from the old house when they heard a pair of horses hitched to a long boxsled approaching. The sled was piled high with several boxes and three bales of hay.
"Get back!" cried Jack quickly. "That may be one of those Germans coming, and I don't think it would be wise to let him see us."
They stepped behind some trees and brushwood, and soon the boxsled came closer. Then another surprise awaited them, for the driver of the sled, who was alone, was none other than the farmer they had rescued from the burning railroad car.
"It's that fellow Crouse," whispered Gif. "What do you know about that?"
"Shall we go out and speak to him?" questioned Andy.
"I don't see that it would do any harm," said Jack. "We have a perfect right to be out hunting in this neighborhood."