Conscious that they were seen, they now advanced directly, as if coming from a distance, though the fact that they were on foot showed that such was not the case.
With feelings which it would be hard to describe, Fred Whitney recognized the first as Larch Cadmus, wearing the same whiskers as before. Had he been thoughtful enough to disguise his voice the young man would not have suspected his identity.
The moon had worked around into that quarter of the heavens that its light shone on the figure of Fred, who rose to his feet, as was his custom, and advanced a few paces to meet the newcomers.
"Good evening!" he said. "How happens it that you are afoot at this time of night?"
"Our horses ain't fur off," replied Cadmus; "the rest of the boys didn't think it worth while to trouble you."
"What do you mean by troubling me?" asked Fred, though he understood the meaning.
"We're on an unpleasant errand," continued Cadmus, acting as the spokesman of the party, the others remaining in the background and maintaining silence.
"Shall I bring chairs for you? It is so unusually mild to-night that I am sitting out doors from choice, and I do not wish to disturb my mother and sister, who retired some time ago."
"No, we'll stand," was the curt response. "Whitney, as I suppose it is, are you accustomed to sit out here alone?"
"Not when I can have company."