During this talk the old hermit remained motionless, regarding the boys with angry eyes. Then he spoke again. “Well, are you going to take yourselves out of my woods? Are you going to leave at once? I demand that you go!” “No, sir, we are not going,” declared Tom, firmly but respectfully, for after all, he thought the age of the man was entitled to some deference. “You must leave my woods!” the hermit insisted. “I have been bothered enough in the search for the fortune hidden from me. I want to be alone in my woods. Go!” and he pointed his finger toward Wilden. “I do not think you have the right to make us go,” said Tom. “I understand these are not your woods, and we have as good a right to camp here as you have to wander about. We are not going!” For a few seconds the old man seemed dazed at the bold answer. Probably he had expected a meek compliance, but, as it developed, Tom’s answer was the best that could have been given. Pausing a moment the hermit gazed almost reproachfully at the lads and then, with another shake of his fist at them, he called: “Well, you have been warned, and now you must take the consequences. The price of your folly is on your own heads!” He turned and vanished into the shadows of the woods. “Whew! Quite dramatic!” exclaimed Tom, as he turned to his chums. “I should say so,” agreed Jack. “Nice thing to be awakened from pleasant dreams and told to move on in a trackless forest at midnight. He’s as bad as Professor Skeel used to be.” “Speaking of Skeel reminds me,” observed Tom. “Do you think he has come up here to camp?” “Hard to say,” murmured Bert. “But I know one thing, as long as I’m awake I’m going to have something to eat. Are there any of those chicken sandwiches left, Dick?” “I guess so. And there’s some cold tea.” “Warm it up then, and we’ll have a lunch.” “Say, what do you think this is; a quick-eat restaurant?” asked the amateur cook. “Oh, go ahead,” suggested Tom. “We’ll all help, and maybe we’ll get to sleep again, after this interruption, if we eat.” The oil stove was lighted, and the tea put on to warm, while Dick set out a plate of sandwiches he had made from canned chicken. Then the boys ate and talked. “That old hermit is sure on our trail,” declared Tom. “But he doesn’t seem to be as dangerous as the folks made out,” commented Jack. “I guess he’s just simple-minded, thinking of the treasure in the old mill,” added Bert. “By the way, Tom, when are we going to visit the ruins, and have a try for the buried gold?” and he laughed. “Oh, we’ll go over there some time,” agreed Tom. “I’d like to pick a day, though, when old Wallace wouldn’t be on hand. I’m not exactly afraid of him, but, from what I can understand, he does own the mill, though not these woods, and if he ordered us off that property we’d have to go.” “But we can take a chance,” suggested Dick.