At any rate, he began to look around to see where he could best conceal himself till the newcomers passed.
He caught sight of a tree that seemed easy to climb, and he swung himself up at once, ascending from limb to limb till he was probably twenty-five feet above the ground, concealed by the foliage and the obscurity of night.
He had not long to wait.
Presently there emerged from the thicker recesses of the wood two men, one of whom carried in his hand a tin box of considerable size.
Harry scrutinized them both, but he only recognized one. That one was a man named Ralph Temple, generally considered a ne’er-do-well and a vagabond, who lived in a tumble-down shanty in the edge of the wood.
“This is the place I was thinking of,” said Temple, halting about twenty feet from the tree in which Harry was concealed.
“It seems a lonely, out-of-the-way place,” said his companion.
“Yes; no one is likely to see the box here. No one ever comes here. There is a path through the wood, which is always used by those who pass through it.”
“And this is off from the path?”
“Yes.”