“They say grub is getting short in their camp,” suggested Alec Sands.
“And seeing the light of our fire, he came this way to spy on us,” added Billy Worth.
“Well, he looked surprised, and half scared, to me,” observed Bud Morgan. “It’s easy to understand why. You know, over in their country, the only authority they recognize is that of uniforms. Police officers or army men they bend the knee to. So, seeing a dozen stout chaps all in khaki uniforms seated here, I guess that dago is laboring under the idea that in some way we’re connected with the U. S. Army.”
Hugh looked uneasy.
“I hope he isn’t going to carry that impression back with him to his mates, then,” he argued, “because they would think the soldiers were hiding up here, waiting to shoot them down if any rioting began. And we might have a hundred wild strikers breaking in on the quiet of our little camp when we least expect visitors.”
“They’re an awful unreasonable lot, too,” added Harold Tremaine. “You can’t make ’em understand what you mean: and they’ve got ugly, hot tempers in the bargain.”
“There, Hugh, he’s crawling off now!” said Ralph.
“A good riddance of bad rubbish!” declared Arthur Cameron. “The less we have to do with these queer foreigners, the better for us all.”
When he said that Arthur little suspected what strange happenings there were destined to come their way ere long, and also what surprises they would be thrown in contact with, even to a close association with the very foreigners he was, in his ignorance, speaking of so bitterly.
“I hope he’s gone for good, that’s all!” was what Hugh said.