As Dick came out of the tent he fancied he heard a distant step, crackling on a broken twig.

“If there’s anyone coming I’d better slip into the shadow of the canvas,” Prescott told himself, acting accordingly.

Presently the stealthy steps sounded nearer to the camp.

“Someone is coming, as sure as fate,” Dick said to himself.  “Shall I rouse one or two of the other fellows?  But they might alarm the prowler.  I’ll handle him myself.”

CHAPTER XI

A HARD PROWLER TO CATCH

It was the prowler.

Close to the tent he stopped to listen to the heavy breathing that came from the sound young sleepers.  Dick crouched farther back into the shadow.

Uttering a low grunt, that was half chuckle, the prowler slipped along in the darkness, making toward the cupboards.

“My friend, I want a little talk with you,” suddenly spoke Dick Prescott, slipping up behind the uninvited visitor.

The prowler wheeled quickly about.

“You don’t want anything to do with me,” he corrected, in a harsh voice.  “I could eat two or three like you, and then have plenty of appetite left.”

“Perhaps,” smiled Dick Prescott undaunted.

“And I’ll do it, too, if you don’t stand back.”

“But I want to talk with you, my friend,” Dick insisted.

“I don’t want to talk with you,” snapped the prowler.

“You would, if you knew what I want to talk with you about,” Prescott continued.

“Is it about food?” demanded the young stranger grimly.

“Then it’s about jail,” sneered the other harshly.

“Why about jail?” asked Dick.

“Because that’s where you’d like to see me!”

“Why should I want to see you in jail?” Prescott demanded.

“Because I’ve been visiting your kitchen,” leered the other.  “But you can’t stop me.  Not all of your crowd can stop me!”

“Why do you wish to clean us out of food?” Prescott asked.

“Because I know how to eat,” replied the young stranger significantly.

“Is that the only reason you have for trying to clean us all out of food?”

“Why should I have any other reason?  And why isn’t being hungry a good enough reason?” counter-queried the prowler.

“It has struck me,” smiled Dick, “that perhaps you don’t want us in these woods, anyway.”

“I don’t just hanker after your company,” admitted the stranger, with gruff candor.

“Are we bothering you any here?”

“No matter,” came the sullen retort.

“To return to the first subject, that matter about which I want
to talk with you-----”

“Not to-night,” growled the young prowler.  Turning on his heel, he started to walk away.

But Dick kept close at his side.

“Shake my trail, you!” ordered the other gruffly.  “If you don’t you’ll be sorry!”