CHAPTER VIII.
VISITORS FOR THE FEAST Bang! bang! sounded in the direction of the burned-over clearing.
"Let's go over and see what that means," proposed Tom.
He jumped up, ready to sprint over to the clearing.
"If you want advice," Dick offered, "I'd say to wait until the shooting is over.

You might stop a stray bullet not intended for us." "But what can the shooting mean" wondered Greg.
"When anyone is turning bullets loose," remarked Darry, "I'm not too inquisitive." So the boys waited until the firing had ceased.

Then they heard what sounded like the noise of a horse moving through the brush.
"Hello, there!" called Dick.
"Hello, yourself!" came the answer, and a mounted man rode into view.

He did not look especially ugly or dangerous; his garb was plainly intended for the saddle.

As he came into sight the man slipped a heavy automatic revolver into a saddle holster.
"What was up ?" inquired Dick, rising and going forward to meet the newcomer.
"Stampede," replied the other briefly.
"We know something about that," Dick rejoined.
"Do you know anything about the burning of the clearing ?" asked the horseman, reining up and eyeing the lads keenly.
"Yes, sir; we fired the grass," Prescott acknowledged.
"To break the stampede ?" "No, sir; to save our camp, which would have been destroyed." "Shake," invited the stranger, riding forward and bending over to hold out his hand.