"I don't want to talk with you," snapped the prowler.
"You would, if you knew what I want to talk with you about," Prescott
continued.
"Is it about food?" demanded the young stranger grimly.
"Then it's about jail," sneered the other harshly.
"Why about jail?" asked Dick.
"Because that's where you'd like to see me!"
"Why should I want to see you in jail?" Prescott demanded.
"Because I've been visiting your kitchen," leered the other.
"But you can't stop me. Not all of your crowd can stop me!"
"Why do you wish to clean us out of food?" Prescott asked.
"Because I know how to eat," replied the young stranger significantly.
"Is that the only reason you have for trying to clean us all out
of food?"
"Why should I have any other reason? And why isn't being hungry
a good enough reason?" counter-queried the prowler.
"It has struck me," smiled Dick, "that perhaps you don't want
us in these woods, anyway."
"I don't just hanker after your company," admitted the stranger,
with gruff candor.
"Are we bothering you any here?"
"No matter," came the sullen retort.
"To return to the first subject, that matter about which I want
to talk with you-----"
"Not to-night," growled the young prowler.
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