"Ahead?" asked his brother.
Frank nodded.
"We'll go easy."
He moved on cautiously and the others followed. In a few moments they heard a dull murmur of voices and smelled the unmistakable odor of a wood fire. So far they could see no one, but soon the faint trail wound around in the direction of a clearing ahead and those in the rear saw Frank crouch among the bushes, peering through the leaves.
Quietly, the others came up. The four boys gazed through the undergrowth at the scene in the grassy clearing.
Three men were seated about a small fire, over which one was holding a tin pail suspended from a green branch. They were unshaven, frowsy-headed, untidy fellows, and they sprawled on the ground in careless attitudes.
"Tramps," whispered Chet, but Frank pressed a restraining hand on his arm.
There was one thought in the minds of the four boys—that this trio might be the automobile thieves!
"Not far from Bayport, are we?" growled one of the men.
"Not many miles farther on," replied the man holding the branch.
"It's the first time I've ever been in these parts."
