crawled out from the
fallen canvas, and was standing with open mouth and eyes, listening
eagerly to the conversation.

"Here, Bowser," shouted the farmer sternly. "Come here, I say."

The brute reluctantly obeyed, while Nugget sought shelter in a young
tree.

The angry man turned to the three boys--for Clay had by this time joined
the others.

"Get out as quick as you can," he resumed. "I can't stand here all
night."

For an instant no one replied. Ned was bent on making another appeal,
and was thinking how he could best word it. The chances were that a
little persuasion would have induced the farmer to relent, and permit
the boys to remain where they were until morning.

But Randy's unfortunate temper blazed up just then, and made a breach
that was too wide to be healed.

"It's a confounded shame to turn us off at this time of night," he
muttered angrily. "I wouldn't treat a dog that way. If this is a sample
of country breeding I'm glad I don't--"

"Keep quiet, Randy," whispered Ned; "you're only making things worse."

The warning came too late.

"You audacious sauce box," cried the farmer. "I'll learn you manners.
Take that--and that."

He seized Randy by the collar, and cuffed him soundly on the ears three
or four times. Then he dropped him and turned to the others. "Now git
out o' here, or I'll treat you-uns the same way," he snarled.

Randy was boiling with rage, but he dared not open his mouth again. Ned
and Clay realized that further entreaty was now useless. Without a word
they began to pack up, and were finally assisted by Randy and Nugget.

The farmer stood at one side, watching the operation keenly. In a brief
space of time the tent and the unwashed dishes were tumbled into the
hatches. Then the boys pushed the canoes into the water, and took their
seats.

The farmer came down to the shore to see them off.

"Mind what I told you," he said; "no stoppin' within a good half mile."

"Don't say a word," whispered Ned.

His companions wisely obeyed, and in utter silence they paddled out from
the shore and headed down stream. Soon a curve in the channel hid from
view the dying embers of the campfire and the twinkle of the farmer's
lantern.

"Wouldn't I like to get square with that old curmudgeon!" exclaimed
Randy; "my ears sting yet. For half a cent I'd go back and trample down
his grain or break his fences."

"I wish you'd poison the dog," drawled Nugget. "The brute gave me a
horrid fright