The train pulled into a station a few miles below Wilden, and to the surprise of Tom and his chums, Sam Heller and his crony got off. Our friends watched them. “What do you know about that!” exclaimed Jack, as he leaned out of a window to look. “The expressman is pulling off some tents and other camping stuff, and Sam is telling him where to place it. Say, those fellows are going camping after all their high-flown talk about a hotel, and I’ll wager we run across them again before the summer’s over!” “I shouldn’t wonder,” spoke Tom. “No matter, we’ll have a good time anyhow. We’d better be getting ready to leave on our own hook.” As the train pulled out again our friends saw Sam and Nick arranging their tent and baggage, but the two did not look up at their former schoolmates. Wilden was soon reached, and as Tom was making inquiries of the freight agent as to whether or not his boat had arrived a man stepped up and greeted our hero. “Isn’t this Tom Fairfield, and his camping chums?” he asked pleasantly. “It is, and you--” “I’m Mr. Amos Henderson. My wife used to go to school with your mother, and when Sallie--that’s my wife--heard you were coming up here she got all ready for you. She sent me down to the station to bring you up to the house. I said I didn’t think I’d know you, but land shucks! Sallie said that didn’t matter. She told me to pick out four boys, and they’d be sure to be the right ones. “And I did, by gum! Though it wasn’t a hard matter, seeing as how you’re the only ones who got off the train. But come on now, supper’s waiting, and Sallie won’t like it to get cold.” Tom and his chums, pleased with their warm reception, followed Mr. Henderson, and were soon sitting down to a substantial meal, enlivened by much talk. “Tell us all you can about the old mill, and that crazy man, please,” asked Tom, during a lull in the conversation. “Oh, I do hope you don’t run across him!” exclaimed Mrs. Henderson. “He’s really dangerous,” and she proceeded to give a few more details of the story of the secret of the mill, already substantially known to my readers. Tom and his chums asked innumerable questions, as to how to reach the mill, and where the best spot to camp would be. “I can see what those boys are pointing for,” said Mr. Henderson when the four had gone to bed. “What?” asked his wife. “The old mill. You couldn’t keep ’em away with ropes. They’ll go poking about it, looking for that treasure, which I don’t believe exists, and they’ll have a row with old Wallace as sure as chickens.” “Oh, Amos! What had we better do?” “Can’t do anything, as I can see. Those boys will do as they please, anyhow. But I guess they can look out for themselves.” Early the next morning Tom went to see about getting the boat and other stuff carted to the camp in the woods. On the advice of Mr. Henderson they had picked out the east shore of the lake, that being the nearest to Wilden.