he cried and pointed towards the shore.
Two men were seated under a small tree which grew half-way between the wharf and the tent. Their backs were towards the boys so that it was impossible to see who they were. The back view however was not very reassuring. The strangers appeared to be rough and unkempt and were busily engaged in eating some food they had evidently helped themselves to from the stores of the four young campers. Both men seemed entirely unaware that they were being watched.
"How did they get there without our seeing them?" whispered John. "Pop saw one of them up by the tent."
"The tent is between that tree and the place where we were standing,"
said George. "It shut off our view and they probably walked down there while we were coming towards the tent."
"What shall we do?" whispered Fred.
"Yell at them," suggested John.
"Don't you do it," cautioned Grant quickly.
"For goodness' sake," exclaimed George suddenly in a low voice. "Don't any one of you fellows move," he ordered them. "Just wait here for me."
He turned and darted quickly inside the tent while his three companions were completely mystified by his strange behavior. They gazed after him in amazement.
"What's he after?" asked John in a whisper.
"Maybe he went for the gun," suggested Fred.
"I wonder if he did," exclaimed Grant. "We mustn't have that," and he started to follow George inside the tent.
Just as he was about to lift the flap and enter, however, George suddenly appeared. He held one of the young campers' big balsam pillows in each hand and he wore a queer expression on his face. His three friends looked at him in amazement not unmixed with alarm.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Grant.
"Ssh!" hissed George. "Watch me."
He cautiously stole forward in the direction of the two men. His companions were too surprised to make any effort to restrain him.
Open-mouthed they stood and watched him stealthily approach the tree underneath which the two rough-looking men were seated.
CHAPTER XXVII-CONCLUSION
"He's gone crazy," muttered Grant. "We should have held him back."
On tip-toe and evidently trying to make as little noise as possible, George stole forward. Nearer and nearer he approached, the pillows still held firmly in his hands. He slackened his pace as he came closer and redoubled his efforts to move cautiously.
"They'll turn and see him in a second," whispered Fred, as much to himself as to anybody else. All three of the boys were tense with excitement as they riveted their attention on their companion who to them was doing such a remarkable thing.
George was scarcely ten feet distant from the men now. All at once he stopped. He slowly drew back his right arm and taking careful aim he let fly the pillow which he held. True to its mark it sped. It struck the larger of the two men squarely in the neck. The second pillow followed the other an instant later and it too scored a hit. Both had been aimed at the same man.
No sooner had George completed his bombardment than he uttered a wild whoop and rushed forward. He dashed straight towards the man he had been so successful in hitting and threw both arms around him.
Grant, Fred, and John were too taken aback to do more than stand and gaze stupidly at the strange proceedings taking place before their eyes.
George's actions to them were a complete mystery.
Suddenly he ceased hugging the rough looking man he had pounced upon so eagerly and turned to his three camp-mates.
"Grant!" he cried. "John! Fred! Come here and see who this is."
"Who is it?" exclaimed John blankly. "Thomas and Hugh?"
"Here's your father, Fred," called George loudly. "Don't you want to see him?"
Fred started violently at these words. He stared ahead of him and then suddenly gave vent to a wild shriek.
"Dad!" he cried and rushing pell mell down the gradual incline he threw himself upon the smaller of the two "tramps."
"Why it's Mr. Button and Mr. Sanders," exclaimed Grant in surprise.
"Where do you suppose they came from?"
"All dressed up to look like tramps," added John. "What do you suppose they are trying to do?"
"Play a joke on us, I guess," laughed Grant. "Lets go down and see them."
They soon joined the little group gathered underneath the tree and a happy gathering it was.
"What do you think of these two tramps, Grant?" inquired George when greetings had been exchanged all around.
"What do you think of a boy who would hit his poor old father in the back of the neck with two big pillows?" laughed Mr. Sanders. "That strikes me as pretty rough treatment."
"It surely is," agreed Grant. "We usually take him down and duck him when he gets fresh that way."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," said Mr. Sanders sorrowfully. "He has gotten so husky this summer I'd hate to tackle him now."
"We didn't know you were coming up here," said Fred, addressing his father and Mr. Sanders.
"And we didn't want you to know it either," laughed Mr. Button. "We planned a surprise for you."
"You gave it to us all right," said John grimly. "We were sure you were two thugs of some kind who had come up here to rob us."
"How do you like our costumes?" demanded Mr. Sanders jovially. "Do we really look like a couple of desperate characters?"
"You certainly do, Dad," said George. "I never saw worse."
"How did you dare to throw those big heavy pillows at me then?"
"I recognized you right away, even from the back. You need a pretty good disguise to fool your son you know."
"So it seems," admitted Mr. Sanders and he rubbed the back of his neck ruefully.
"Didn't you see us coming?" asked John.