“Here comes old Skeetles and Dan Marcy!” “Quick, Joe, put the papers out of sight,” whispered Harry, and this was done. In a few minutes Hiram Skeetles and Dan Marcy reached the shelter. “So ye burnt the lodge down!” exclaimed the real estate dealer. “I’ll have the law on ye fer that!” “The lodge was burnt down by accident,” answered Joe. “We are willing to pay a fair amount for the damage done.” “Humph! And what made ye come over here to camp out?” asked Skeetles, anxiously. “Because we felt like it,” answered Fred. “I said ye could stay over to the lodge, not here.” “Well, we came here,” put in Joe. “But we are not going to stay very long. I and Harry are going home, and I guess the rest will go with us.” The real estate dealer looked at the Westmore boys sharply. “Did ye find—er—anything belongin’ to me around here?” he asked, suspiciously. “We did—a pocketbook and these cards and papers,” answered Joe, boldly, and handed over what belonged to the miserly man. “What!” Hiram Skeetles turned first red and then white. “Did ye—er—find anything else?” “Nothing belonging to you, Mr. Skeetles.” “Nothin’ belongin’ to me, eh? What else did ye find?” “You’ll learn about that later,” said Harry. “Ha! you’re keepin’ something back! I can see it in yer faces! Give it up, I say, give it up!” And Hiram Skeetles took a savage step forward. “Leave the lads alone,” came sternly from Joel Runnell. “What they’ve got belongs to them.” “He’s got them papers!” screamed Skeetles, losing all self-control. “Take ’em from him, Dan!” And he pointed at Joe. Marcy took a step forward as if to catch hold of Joe, but a well-directed blow from old Runnell’s hand sent him sprawling in the snow. “Clear out,” said the old hunter, wrathfully. “If you don’t——” He tapped his gun, but it was unnecessary. The bully staggered to his feet and retreated without delay. Seeing this, Hiram Skeetles also fell back, glaring angrily at our friends as he did so. “What are ye goin’ to do?” he asked, after a pause. “I am going to help my folks get back the property that belongs to them,” answered Joe. “Hiram Skeetles, you are found out, and the less fuss you make the better off you’ll be.” “Those papers ain’t no good.” “That remains to be seen. What I want to know is, how did you manage to steal them?” “Steal ’em?” Hiram Skeetles’ lips quivered. “Didn’t steal ’em. Dan Marcy got——” “Don’t you lay it off on me,” howled the bully. “Skeetles told me they belonged to him, and that’s why I got ’em. If I had known——” He stopped short. “My opinion of it is, you are both a precious pair of rascals,” came from Joel Runnell. “And that being so, I want you to leave these boys alone.” A wordy war followed, but old Runnell and the young hunters were obdurate, and at last Hiram Skeetles and Dan Marcy withdrew, the former trembling for what the future might have in store and the bully like a dog that has been thoroughly whipped.