Crash! She landed on a bunch of small limbs and branches. She went right on through them, tearing off leaves with frantic hands in her efforts to get hold of something that would stop her progress. The foliage checked her fall a little, but not sufficiently to prevent her falling the rest of the way.
A yell from Larry Goheen, an answering shout from George, and another from Sam, told that the boys had heard the fall. They began running toward the tree, with shouts of triumph.
"We've got somebody," yelled George. "Look sharp, fellows."
"I'm on the job," howled Sam.
"Get clubs. It may be a spook," howled Larry.
The Tramp Club surrounded the tree, keeping their formation as well as possible, not forgetting that their prey might slip away from them did they not guard all sides. As yet they did not now who or what that prey was. A moment later they halted with exclamations of surprise.
Directly beneath the tree in which Jane McCarthy had been hiding stood a man. He was dark and swarthy, with high cheek bones and jet black hair. He was an Indian half-breed. The fellow stood scowling, regarding the boys with angry eyes. Broken limbs and scattered leaves showed where Jane McCarthy had fallen from the tree, and broken bushes also showed where she had floundered after reaching the ground.
The Tramp Club gazed at the scowling face of the half-breed in speechless amazement.