"Say, what was that?" demanded Greg.
From outside came a faint sound as of someone stealthily groping about outside in the storm.
"Bring a lantern, quickly!" called Dick, going toward the tent door.
As Greg played the rays of light against the darkness outside, Dick suddenly sprang forth into the dark. Then he returned, bearing in his arms the pitiful little figure of old Reuben Hinman, the peddler.
"Look at his head!" gasped Reade, in horror, as Prescott entered with the burden.
From a gash over the peddler's left temple blood was flowing, leaving its dark trail over the peddler's light brown coat.
Dick carried the stricken old man straight to his own cot, laying him there gently.
"Who can have done this deed?" gasped Greg, throbbing with sympathy for the poor old man.
Outside other approaching steps sounded. Dave and Tom, snatching up sticks of firewood, sprang forward.