“Oh, sure,” came from Tom. “Say, but that old chap must spend all his time wandering about the woods. I wonder where he sleeps when he’s away from the mill?” “Oh, he probably has plenty of bunks and caves that we never would dream of,” said Jack. “Well, I’m going to turn in,” he added, with a yawn. “If he comes back again kindly tell him, Tom, to wait until morning before doing any more ordering-off.” Once more the lads sought their cots, to sleep undisturbed until morning. The day was spent in getting their camp more in ship-shape, and getting in a supply of wood for camp fires, and for cooking in case their oil gave out, or the portable stove failed. In the afternoon they went fishing, and had good luck. Though they kept watch for the hermit, they did not see him. The woods and lake were as deserted as though they were in some country as yet unvisited by man, and there were no evidences that any camping parties had ever visited the region where the boys were. “It sure is wild,” said Jack, as he gazed about. “It’s just the cheese though,” declared Tom. “We couldn’t have picked out a better place.” “And as soon as we get busy on the secret of the old mill there may be lots of happenings,” added Bert. A week passed, during which our friends enjoyed life to the utmost. They fished, and as the lake had seldom been visited by devotees of the rod and line it proved a garden spot for such sport. One had but to throw in a line to have a bite. They hunted, too, but as the season was not open they managed to kill only a few foxes and skunks, and, as their fur was not of much value in the summer, even this they gave up as rather unprofitable work. “It’s the mill we want to head for,” insisted Jack. “Come on, Tom, let’s get up an expedition and go there. We can go in the boat, for, as you say, the mill is on the river that runs into the lake. Come on.” “All right, we’ll go to-morrow,” agreed Tom. Accordingly, having set their camp to rights, and having put up a lunch, for they would not be back to dinner, they set off in the _Tag_, heading up the lake to where the river entered it. “She’s running better than she did at home,” remarked Dick to Tom, as he looked at the puffing motor. “Yes, but don’t say anything,” cautioned our hero. “She may be holding back for a kick-up. I never praise this motor, for I actually believe it knows what you say. Let well enough alone,” and the others laughed at his quaint conceit. It was a beautiful day, and the trip along the lake was much enjoyed. It was rather lonesome, but the boys did not mind that. As they moved along the shore of a little cove Jack suddenly called: “Hold on! I think I heard something moving near the bank there,” and he pointed just ahead. “Slow down the engine,” called Tom to Dick, and the latter throttled down, making the machinery almost noiseless. Then they all heard a crashing in the underbrush. “Maybe it’s the hermit,” suggested Bert.