Nan pulled her down to the ground again.
"Don't let them see you," she cried. "If they land we can get a really good look at them."
All watched with intense interest as the motor boat neared the island, rounded a small promontory, and put in to shore. There was something familiar about the motor boat and about the men in it, too!
"If it should be Andrew Simmer!" thought Jo, a wild hope in her heart. To Fred Fielding she whispered urgently: "Don't let them get away. If they see us and start to run, catch them. Promise me!"
Fred nodded.
"Don't talk!" he said. "Here they come!"
The two men came slowly up the bank. One of them carried a pack on his back and looked like a tramp. The other was—Jo got a good look at his face this time and choked back a cry—Andrew Simmer!
The men saw neither the fire nor the young people about it, but kept on along the shores of the lake toward some definite objective.
Their hearts beating fast, the girls and boys followed.
The two men, looking neither to the right nor to the left of them, shuffled doggedly along. After a few moments they struck off into the deepest part of the woods, the young folks still trailing at a cautious distance.