Frank saw his opportunity to get away, and was not slow to avail himself of it.
“Thanks, awfully, Mr. Wild Man; I’m indebted to you,” he laughed, as he started along the little beach, headed for his own camp.
He knew his chums would be dreadfully anxious by this time. They must have surely heard the excited cries from the other camp, and would be alarmed lest something had happened to him.
As he drew near he whistled. This was a signal that Bluff should recognize, and which would tell him who approached, so that he would not be tempted to fire, or make any threatening demonstration.
“Welcome back, Frank!” exclaimed Bluff, as he appeared in sight.
“Sure, we’re glad to see you safe and sound. From the racket we began to be afraid that you’d got into trouble,” observed Will.
“The trouble seemed to be on the other side, boys. They’ve fared worse than we did. In our case it was only a kettle full of stew; but they lost everything!”
“What’s that? Do you mean somebody cribbed their grub?” demanded Bluff.
“Just what happened, and right under my eyes, too. I saw it done. Oh! what you missed then, Will! If you could only have snapped off that picture, there wouldn’t be a single soul in Centerville doubt the story about the wild man,” said Frank.
“Wild man! Do you mean to say he entered their camp while you were there?”