“The two runaway tramps!”
“Jerry, that head of yours will get you into trouble some day. You are too good a guesser,” laughed Frank.
“Then that was it? You think the tramps have come over here to Wildcat Island to hide while the sheriff is hunting the woods high and low for them? I declare, if that’s so it means warm times in store for us,” exclaimed Will.
“Talk to me about your war scares, what could equal that? Why, we’ll capture the blooming hoboes, and let Mr. Dodd know there are others besides himself who can do things.”
“What makes you think that?” pursued Bluff, who always wanted to know the why and wherefore of everything, he being the Doubting Thomas of the quartet.
“I may be mistaken, remember; for I’m just speculating, you see. In the first place, I doubt if our wild man would be provided with such a convenient cord and hook. Then again I saw that arm, and it was covered with a sleeve that looked wonderfully like that of the taller tramp’s coat, a dun-colored affair.”
“Bravo! Frank’s logic carries the day. I’m going to take it for granted that we are entertaining angels unawares on this blessed old island,” cried Will.
“Angels?” snorted Jerry. “Talk to me about that, will you? They must have had their wings singed, then, or else they’d have flown down and scooped our grub instead of using a measly old string. Angels! Wow! Will’s turning poet as well as artist.”
“I know one thing, boys, and that is we’ll have to keep watch and watch every night from now on. If the tramps are here they’ll steal everything we own, given half a chance,” from Bluff.
“That’s a good idea, and we’ll arrange that one must be on guard for two hours at a stretch. Besides, it will make the camp seem more military,” said Frank.