"Shoulder arms!" explained Berks in triumphant tones. "That was Greg Bram, the young villain. Aha, there he was as I came up, a musket and a game bag on either arm. I'd seen you two in the distance, and knew the trappings. 'Company halt,' says I, and young Bram snickers in my face. 'Trespasser,' says he, 'it'll cost 'em something to redeem these fixings.' 'Trespassers, nothing, you young thief, you've robbed my traps and shot at my homing doves. You'll rob two honest lads, too, will you?' I unstrapped my belt and larrupped him good and sound. He got one wallop that bloodied his nose and went off snivelling as to how he'd get even. Ready--fire!--Pop! If the young villain ever comes nosing around here to make trouble, I'll turn old Tom loose on him, now I will." "Old Tom" was an old-fashioned cannon planted just outside of the door of the cabin. There were other warlike tokens scattered about the one living room of the hut. Phil noted these with interest. There were several muskets, some swords, a couple of tomahawks and some smaller weapons, mementoes of old Silas' warlike experience in the war with the French and Indians. "I brought your traps here," proceeded the veteran, "and went looking for you, knowing you must be somewhere around. Thought I saw you in the distance, over towards Bram's. I got to looking closer, though, and the two I finally made out was old Bram and a boy. The old skeesicks had the boy's arms strapped to his sides and was pulling him in the direction of his house." "Say," broke in Andy excitedly, "what kind of a boy was he?" Silas described the lad the best he could from having seen him at a distance. Phil and Andy exchanged meaning glances. They took up their hunting traps, and after thanking Silas for his trouble in their behalf started from the hut. "Seems to me I heard you come from Boston?" observed the old veteran to Phil with an inquisitive look. "That's right, Mr. Berks," answered Phil promptly. "Going back soon?" pressed the old man, his bright restless eyes sparkling with the interest and vim he put into everything he said or did. "I think in a day or two," said Phil. "You're going back to lively times then, young man, lively times," repeated the old war veteran with a serious shake of the head. "Andy, look here." The old man made a whistling kind of noise with his lips, and from a dove cote overheard some half a dozen pigeons came flocking down to his feet. Berks reached into a grain measure standing on a bench and scattered some feed to the friendly pigeons.