HOME, HOSPITAL AND ALMSHOUSE
Greg flashed the lantern on four hulking, bedraggled ragged men.
"Hello! It's the same kids!" cried a hoarse voice out in the storm. "They'll be glad to see us."
"You keep out of here!" ordered Reade, thrusting his stick at the face of the first tramp—-the boss tramp—-who tried to enter.
"No!" countermanded Dick Prescott. "Let even the hoboes come in. Let anyone come in on a night like this."
"Now, that's decent of you," admitted the boss tramp, as he sloshed heavily in, followed by three companions. Two of these tramps had been with the "boss" on another well remembered occasion. The third was a stranger to Dick & Co.
"My, but you've got a real house in here a true port in a storm," observed the boss tramp, as he halted to stare about him. "Friends, this is the best thing we've seen today."
"It is," agreed the other tramps solemnly.
The glance of the newcomers did not rest upon the face of Reuben Hinman, for Prescott had gently spread a blanket so that it effectually concealed the little old peddler.
"What have you men been doing?" asked Dick, straightening up and eyeing them coldly, steadily.