“Look here!” Jimmie shouted. “If you’re a Boy Scout, why don’t you come out and show yourself? I never knew a Boy Scout who was ashamed to show his face.”
“What patrol?” came the voice from the thicket.
“Black Bear and Wolf, New York,” Frank answered.
There was a short silence, and then just a whisper came from a point near to where the boys were standing.
“Didn’t I tell you Boy Scouts to beat it?” were the words spoken.
“What’s the difficulty?” asked Jimmie. “Are you trying to make monkeys of us? Why don’t you come out and tell us all about it?”
“It wouldn’t do any good if I did,” answered the mysterious voice. “I tell you to beat it, and that’s the last word you’ll get from me.”
They heard a rustle in the thicket, and, though they listened for a long time, they heard no more words spoken. The boys darted away into the undergrowth in search of the person who had given them so mysterious a warning, but no trace of him could be discovered.
“Now, what did he mean by ‘beat it’?” demanded Jimmie in a moment as the boys met at the tree again.
“He meant for us to make ourselves scarce in this vicinity, I’m afraid,” Frank answered. “Of course we don’t know whether he warned us to keep away from this spot, or whether he advised us to break camp.”