Two dusky figures rose from the shelter, and looked out towards me into the darkness.
“Hullo!” I repeated; and in response heard a clear boyish voice exclaiming,—
“Who’s there?”
“Belated tramper.”
“Well, walk up, Mr. Tramper, where we can see what you are.”
I moved up to be seen, and on my part saw a couple of youngsters, of about my own age, who were tending what turned out to be a sugar-camp.
“Where from?” demanded the taller of the two.
“Head of Chesuncook. Going to Bangor. Can I stay here to-night?”
“Of course you can. Had any supper?”
“Not a mouthful.”