“Another camping party?” Dave wondered.

“Tramps, more likely.  Suppose we speak low and advance with caution until we know where we are and whom we’re likely to meet.”

In silence the high school boys drew nearer.  The light proved to come from a campfire that had been lighted some fifty feet from the road.

“Yes, you have!” insisted a harsh voice, as the boys drew nearer.  “Don’t try to fool with us.  Turn over your money, or we’ll make you wish you had!”

“Why, it’s our tramps of this morning,” whispered Dave.

“And look at that wagon—–­the peddler’s!” Dick whispered in answer.

“Come, now, old man!  Turn over your money, unless you want us to frisk you for it!” continued a voice.

“There are your honest tramps, Dave,” Prescott whispered.

Then his eyes flashed, for, by the light of the campfire the lads saw the tramps seize frightened Reuben Hinman on either side and literally turn him upside down, the old man’s head hitting the ground.

“Don’t make any noise,” whispered Prescott, “but we won’t stand for that!”

“We surely won’t!” Darry agreed with emphasis.

“Come on, now—–­soft-foot!”

As the tramps jostled Mr. Hinman, upside down and yelling with fright, a sack containing the peddler’s money rolled from one of the peddler’s trousers pockets.

“Shake him again!  There’ll be more than that coming!” jeered one of the tramps.

But just then they let go their hold of the old man, for Dick Prescott and Dave Darrin rushed in out of the darkness, dealing blows that sent the tramps swiftly to earth.

Yet the two high school boys were now doomed to pay the penalty of not having scouted a bit before rushing in.

For the two tramps were not the only ones of their kind at hand.  Out of the shadows under the surrounding trees came a rush of feet, accompanied by hoarse yells.

Then, before they had had time fully to realize just what was happening, Prescott and Darrin found themselves suddenly in the midst of the worst fight they had ever seen in their lives.

“Beat ’em up!” yelled the man whom Dick had knocked down.  “I know these young fellers!  They put up a bad time for us this morning.  Beat ’em up and make a good job of it, too.”

There was no use whatever in contending with such odds.  Yet Dick and Dave fought with all their might, only to be borne to the ground, where they received severe punishment.

CHAPTER IX

DICK IMITATES A TAME INDIAN

“Hello! hello!” yelled Tom Reade, pacing up and down the road with his lantern, holding his watch in the other hand.  “Oh, Dick!  Dave!”

But up the road there sounded no answer.  Looking utterly worried, Reade came back into camp.

“I don’t like the looks of this, fellows,” he announced.  “There’s something wrong.  Something has happened to one or both of the fellows.  They left here before eight o’clock, and now it’s twenty minutes of eleven.  If everything had been all right, they’d have been back here by half-past nine o’clock at the latest.”