ning a discomforting element was suddenly
injected into Camp Content. Moving figures, harsh voices, together with
the half strangled barks of dogs held in leash startled the seated
campers. Two rough-looking men, evidently a farmer and his hired man,
armed with guns, and holding a couple of dogs by ropes, came in sight
close by.

CHAPTER XIII

THE LIFE THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN SAVED

"Hey! what d'ye mean by trespassin' on my ground? I'll have the law on
ye for darin' to build a big bonfire like that! No tramp convention c'n
threaten to set fire to my woods, let me tell ye!"

The man in the lead was shouting this in an angry voice as he bustled
forward, with his dog growling and straining to get free. Of course
every one of the boys scrambled to his feet in a hurry. The sight of
their khaki uniforms seemed to give the big farmer a decided shock, for
they saw him come to a stop.

"What's this here?" he exclaimed, as he stared at the dozen lads. "Tell
me, am I seein' things Bill Scruggs? Is it the State Militia dropped
down on us? Is there a war on?"

Mr. Witherspoon, who was of course in uniform, stepped to the front and
made the old fellow a military salute that must have gone far toward
soothing his ruffled feelings.

"We're sorry if we've intruded on your ground, sir," he said in that
convincing voice of his. "The fact is these are some of the Boy Scouts
of Lenox, a troop that has lately been organized. I am Robert
Witherspoon, the surveyor, and if I'm not mistaken I did some work for
you a few months ago, Mr. Brush."

"That's a fact ye did, Mr. Witherspoon," declared the farmer, with less
venom in his tone. "Seems like I didn't know ye with them togs on."

"I'm acting as scout master to these lads just now," continued the
other, in his conciliatory way. "One of the rules of the organization
is that each troop must have a grown person to serve with them, so that
any undue boyish spirits may be kept within reasonable bounds."

"So I read in the paper, Mr. Witherspoon," continued the countryman.

"Won't you tie up your dogs, Mr. Brush, and come and join us here
before the fire?" asked the scout master, who doubtless had more or
less faith in the ability of a cheery blaze to curb animosity.

They saw the farmer rub his chin with his hand. He seemed to be
debating within himself as to whether or not it would be advisable to
comply with such a friendly invitation.

"Well, p'raps I mightn't git such a goo