"Good morning." "Then you're not coming over to our place ?" "No!" shouted Harry Hazelton, losing patience.

"What do you want ?" "As you will observe, friend," suggested Tom, smiling at the messenger, "my partner has well mastered the lesson that a soft answer is a soother." "Are you going to leave our camp ?" Harry demanded, as the visitor squatted on the ground.
"If you two are going away," scowled the other, "you'll need some one to stay and watch the camp.

I'll stay for you." "Come on, Harry!" Tom called, starting away under the trees.
Alf Drew had already gone.

Breakfast being over the young cigarette fiend had no notion of staying in camp for a share in any trouble that might be brewing.
"Why on earth are you leaving the camp at that fellow's mercy ?" quivered Harry indignantly, as he and Tom got just out of earshot of the visitor.
"Because I suspect," Reade returned, "that he and his crowd want to steal our assaying outfit." "And you're leaving the coast clear for that purpose ?" Hazelton gasped in high dudgeon.
"Now, Harry, is that all you know about me ?" questioned his partner, reproachfully.

"Listen.