"Oh—dry up!" Greg retorted.
"If they ain't back here in another hour you fellows will feel the same way I do about it," Hen Dutcher predicted stubbornly.
Dick Prescott made no answer, though, truth to tell, he was beginning to worry inwardly. A mishap in the forest, on this bitterly freezing morning, would be no simple matter.
CHAPTER XVII
HEN TURNS HIS VOICE LOOSE
SEE some one coming!" called Greg, who, after breakfast, had taken up the post by the unshuttered window.
Crash! Hen Dutcher dropped the crockery plate he was drying, then plunged headlong into Dick's bunk, burrowing under the blankets.
"It's our crowd!" cried Dick joyously, as he leaped to Greg Holmes's side. "And there are two men with 'em."