“Hello, in there!” cried Whopper, poking his head into the small doorway.  He could not see, for the cabin inside was dark.

Scarcely had the word been uttered when a most surprising thing happened.  Something whizzed through the air, directly between the heads of the two boy hunters.  It was a good-sized chunk of wood, and it struck a rock outside with a thud.

“Why—–­why—–­stop that!” stammered Whopper, and fell back, and Shep did the same.

“Evidently somebody doesn’t want visitors,” was the comment of the doctor’s son.  “I say,” he called out, “what do you mean by heaving that wo-----”

Crash!  From the interior of the cabin came another chunk of wood, a gnarled root, just grazing Shep’s shoulder.  Then a stone followed, striking Whopper a glancing blow on the hip.  Both lads retreated in confusion.

“Well, of all things!” gasped the doctor’s son when he could get his breath.  “That’s a cordial welcome, I must say.”

“Have you any idea who it was?”

“Not the slightest.  It was too dark to see anybody.”

“Couldn’t be any of the Ham Spink crowd?”

“No.  I don’t think they’d treat us in just that way.”

“Maybe it’s some crazy chap.”

“That’s more like it—–­some hermit like old Peter Peterson,” returned Shep, referring to an old man who lived near the lakes and who rarely showed himself in any of the settlements.

“Peter Peterson wasn’t crazy; he didn’t heave things at folks.”

“Let us see if we can get him to come out.  I’d like to see what sort of a chap he is.”

Keeping at what they thought was a safe distance, the two boy hunters called loudly half a dozen times.  No answer was returned.

“Perhaps he’s deaf,” suggested Whopper.

“More likely he doesn’t want to show himself.”

“Maybe it’s a she, Shep.”

“Possibly.  If it’s a woman she must be a regular witch.  Let us call again.”

They did so.  At first they heard nothing in return.  Then came a strange sound from the cabin, and for one brief instant a dark, impish face showed itself at the broken window.  Then the face disappeared and a stone came whizzing toward the lads’ heads.  They ducked just in time, or one or the other might have been seriously hurt.

“Let’s get out—–­no use of staying here to be a target!” cried Whopper, who was growing nervous.  “No telling what that fellow—–­or woman—–­may do next.  Might come for us with a carving knife!” And he hurried away, with the doctor’s son beside him.  They did not slacken their pace until the dilapidated cabin had disappeared from view.

“Did you see him—–­or her?” asked Shep.

“Just about and no more.  What a dried-up, hateful face!”

“Just what I thought.  I’ll wager that that person, whoever he or she is, is as mad as a—–­a crazy person can be.”

“I believe you, and I don’t know as I want to go near that cabin again.”