“S-s-say, wh-what do you want?” stammered Teall.

“So you are a thief, and at work?” inquired the man, who had rested a thin but rather strong hand on Ted’s shoulder.

“A thief?” Teall repeated indignantly.  “No, sir!  And nothing like it, either.”

“Is all the clothing in there yours?” demanded the stranger sternly.

“No, sir,” Ted answered promptly.

“Then-----”

“You see,” Ted went on more glibly, and trying to conceal the fact that he was very uneasy under those burning eyes, “it’s just a joke that I’m playing on some fellows who are swimming.”

“You consider that sort of a joke humorous?” demanded the stranger, tightening the grip of his hand on Teall’s shoulder until the boy squirmed.

“It’s not a bit worse than what one of them did to me this morning,” Ted asserted, strongly on the defensive now.  “And I don’t know what business it is of yours, mister.  Who are you, anyway?”

“My name,” replied the other quietly, “is Amos Garwood.”

“Amos Gar—–­wood?” Ted repeated.  At first the name conveyed no information to him.  But suddenly he remembered the name that had been on everyone’s tongue a few days before.

“The crazy man?” cried Ted, his voice shaking.  Then the woods rang with his startled combination of whoop and prayer.

“This is no place for me!” gasped Teall huskily, as, frantically, he tore himself free of that grip on his shoulder.

Without more ado Ted Teall broke through cover for the road.  Never before had he realized how fast it was possible for him to sprint.  Terror is an unexcelled pacemaker at times.

That whoop, followed by the yell of fear, traveled until it reached the boys at the lakeside.  The distance and the breeze must have robbed the voice of some of its terror, for Dick sprang to his feet like a flash.

“That was Ted Teall’s fine voice!” he cried, running up the slight slope.  “Come on, fellows!  We’ll travel straight in that direction—–­and we’ll find our clothing.”

Nor were any of the boys very far behind Dick in the mad race.  Though two or three of them stepped on stones on the way, no one gave a thought to so slight an accident.

Nor was it long ere they burst from cover and came upon Amos Garwood, standing as though lost in thought, for Garwood was trying to comprehend Teall’s words, “the crazy man.”

All in a flash Dick recognized the man.  So did his chums.  Hi Martin alone was in the dark.

“Good afternoon,” was Garwood’s greeting, as he looked up as though coming out of a trance.  “You are looking for your clothing, I imagine?”

“Marvelous what a good guesser you are, sir,” gasped Tom.

“You’ll find your clothing in this thicket,” announced Garwood, indicating the spot with a wave of one arm.

Dick and Tom piled into the thicket, passing out the mixed-up articles to the other boys.  A quick sorting was made and each item claimed.