“Some one surely is coming. I hear two voices,” agreed Miss Elting. “Perhaps it is Charlie Mabie returning from the village with good news.”
“It may be Charlie Mabie all right, but there is nothing doing on the good news,” replied George.
“Hi, there! Hello the camp!” called the familiar voice of Charlie.
“Hello yourself,” answered George.
“Come out and help me, some of you strong-armed boys. I have picked up a fellow who has hurt his foot. Can’t you give a poor suffering chap a hand?”
The boys sprang up, George with them. In the dim light they could faintly make out two figures approaching them. One was Mabie, the other no one recognized. The latter was leaning on Charlie’s arm.
“’Owdy, Georgie, old chap?” called a second voice.
“What-a-at?” gasped Captain Baker. “Who is it?”
“Don’t you know, old chap? Have you forgotten an old friend so soon?”
“It’s P. E.! It’s P. E. himself! Whoop!” Captain Baker uttered a wild yell and rushing forward threw his arms about the neck of the newcomer. “Oh, P. E., P. E., you did come after all; you didn’t go back on your old salt water friend! Girls, he’s here, he’s here, I tell you! Yell, you Tramps! Yell, I tell you!”