"May want to get their bearings," Jack suggested. "Well, we'll stroll back and see what they want."
They started back down the hill, and the six men again were obscured from their view. As the youths came past a thickly wooded spot, however, four of the men suddenly appeared, breathing heavily from having climbed the steep incline.
"You the mail crew?" the one who seemed to be the leader asked.
"Gosh, no," Andy, who was in the lead, responded. "We just got over from America."
"From America!" the leader responded in apparent great surprise. He gazed from one to another of the four lads, as though expecting some further explanation, and stuck his hands into his coat pockets, standing with feet apart, seemingly aghast.
"Transatlantic contest?" he asked finally.
"Not exactly," Jack answered, anxious to oblige. "Business of a rather private nature."
"Huh," the stranger grunted, his whole attitude and demeanor instantly changing. "Then I guess you're the young fellows we're looking for. Stick up yer hands." And he whipped out a vicious-looking revolver, while his three companions, also with guns drawn, covered Jack, Don and Fred.
"What's the—" Jack began, and looked behind them. The other two men had taken a different route, and without making a sound had crept up. They also handled revolvers menacingly.
"We're the welcoming committee," the leader informed Jack, in answer to his exclamation. "Must say you kept us waiting some time, too. We've been hanging around here for two whole days. Began to think we'd missed you."