"What man was it? I hope there aren't any tramps in these woods."
"Oh, no, he wasn't a tramp. He was the farmer I told you about—the one I worked for, and from whom I ran away. I guess he was looking for me," Tom answered.
"Hum," said Mr. Brown. "Well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see what he wants. Was he coming this way?"
"No, he seemed to be wandering through the woods, as if he didn't know where to go."
"Oh, well, maybe he won't find you," said Mrs. Brown.
"I hope he doesn't," returned Tom, looking over his shoulder.
No strange man came to camp that night, and Bunny and Sue soon forgot all about the little fright Tom had had. But two days later, just as dinner was finished, there came a man rowing in a boat to the little wooden camp-dock Bunker Blue had built out into the lake.
Out of the boat climbed a man with black whiskers. He had on big, heavy boots, and in one hand he carried a whip. He walked up the path from the lake, and when he saw Mr. Brown and his family at the table, under the tent, which was wide open, the man stood still.
"Camp Rest-a-While, eh?" he said in rather a rough voice, as he read the sign. "Well, maybe this is the place I'm looking for. Have you seen a boy—a ragged boy—about fifteen years old in these woods?" he asked.
Before Mr. Brown could answer, Tom Vine, who had gone to the spring for a pail of water, came back. At the sight of the man Tom dropped the pail, spilling the water. At the same time the "ragged boy" cried out: