Then one of the eight, moving in advance of The others, called back: "Fellows, what have we here ?" "Gipsies!" called another.
"Plain hoboes!" from a third.
"It's a gang of juvenile desperadoes escaped from some reformatory," declared a fourth.
"Rah, rah, rah!" With noisy yells the eight young men descended upon the camp.
"Don't you think you'd better steer off ?" called Dave, putting himself as much as he could in their way.
"Why, it talks!" cried one of the rah-rah-rah fellows, in mock astonishment.
"Just like a human being!" added a third.
"Wonder what these animals are doing here ?" propounded another.
So they invaded the camp, poking their heads in at the tent entrance, examining the wagon with a good deal of curiosity, and poking into the boxes containing the food that Dick and Greg had just laid out with a view to starting preparations for supper.
"Now, gentlemen," called Dick, "if you think your curiosity has been sufficiently gratified, do you mind clearing out and letting us alone ?" A variety of mocking replies greeted that proposition.
"We don't like to be disagreeable, you understand," Dave hinted, "but, really, we begin to feel that we have had a great sufficiency of your company, gentlemen." "What are you going to do about it ?" demanded one of the eight intruders rather aggressively.
Dave Darrin doubled his fists, ready to fight, now, at any further provocation.

Even good-natured Tom looked about for some sort of club.

But Dick answered, coolly: "What are we going to do?
First of all, we are merely going to suggest for your consideration the idea that gentlemen don't remain where they're not wanted." "Freshie!" yelled one of the eight contemptuously.
"Toss him in a blanket," advised another.
"We don't mind your presence as much as your bad manners," Dick remarked coldly.

"Will you kindly take your leave ?" "No!" shouted three or four of their tormentors derisively.
Dave, his fists still clenched, bounded forward.

One chap, in an especially brilliant blazer, reached out to box Darry on the ear.
That blow never landed, but the tormentor did---on the earth.
_"Eight rainbow hoboes, Looking for life's leaven, One bumped his eyelash, And then there were but seven!"_ improvised Danny Grin joyously.
"Clean out this camp!" yelled one of the others.
"Come on and do it, then!" yelled Tom Reade, losing all patience at last.
Dick & Co.