After some further conversation, all returned to where the boys had rigged up the radio. Dick and Art were childishly delighted at the concert, the first in their experience. Farnum was almost equally stirred. As to Mr. Hampton, for the time he forgot his worries in enjoyment of the music. As showmen, the boys were in the element.
More than an hour passed, and the concert was still in progress, when Frank, who had been absent unnoted suddenly approached from the thick forest of firs on the bend, below which lay their camp, with a face so pale that Jack, who first caught sight of him, became alarmed.
“What is it, Frank?” he asked, seizing his comrade by an arm.
For a moment Frank was speechless. He swallowed convulsively, but was unable to make a reply. The others looked at him in astonishment, and all tore the headpieces off and neglected the closing number of the concert, as they stared at him.
With outstretched arm, Frank pointed towards the point of land, making a bend in the stream, beyond which lay their camp.
CHAPTER VI.—INDIANS!
“Indians.”
That was all Frank said, but it was sufficient. Over the faces of Mr. Hampton, Farnum and the two men, Dick and Art, came looks of alarm.
“In camp,” asked Jack, a sudden thought striking him. “Maybe they’re just visitors.”
But Farnum shook his head decisively, before Frank could reply.