“It’s supposed to be blue,” laughed Harry.
“He’s got a khaki one,” added Gordon, “but he never wears it.”
“You belong up there, I suppose?”
“No, sir, we’ve been making them a visit. We’re a couple of tramps just now.”
“Is that a leather wristlet you’ve got?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, just come—no, wait a minute—I’ll come up there.”
“Stay where you are, sir,” answered Harry. “We’ll come down.”
He led the way down as if he expected to be charged with a crime. He suspected what was coming.
“Come in here, my boy—you too. My name is Robert E. Danforth. I have a place across the lake. You saved my boy’s life yesterday—don’t attempt to deny it! You’re the very boy I’m looking for. Did you give your name as Buffalo Bill? You did—don’t deny it! Who are you, anyway? Why didn’t you come up to the house so that we could thank you? Do you realize what you did?”