"Hold on there!" said a frightened voice.
Instead of "holding on," Joe jumped for the door, jerked it open, and in an instant more the muzzle of his heavy weapon was covering a crouching figure under the window.
"Speak quick," said he. "Who are you?"
"Mr. Brown! Mr. Brown!" came the answer, in tones that Joe recognized at once. "What are you pointing that gun at me for? I'm lost, and want help to find my way out of the woods."
"Then why didn't you come to the door and say so like a man, instead of trying to scare me by looking in at the window? You ought to know that you put yourself in danger by doing that."
"I didn't mean to frighten you," replied Mr. Brown.
And Joe could easily believe it. His visitor had risen to an upright position by this time, and Joe saw at a glance that he was too badly frightened himself to think of playing tricks upon others.
"Why did you not answer my calls for help?" demanded Mr. Brown, who, now that he was safe, seemed to grow indignant when he remembered how near he had come to spending the night alone on the mountain, with no cheering camp-fire to illumine the darkness.
"Because I didn't hear any calls for help," answered Joe, shortly.