“It’s going to be a simple matter,” Thad remarked. “We’ll go to the place where the shantyboat went aground, and make our start from there, gradually stretching out until we cover the island from shore to shore, and in that way pushing our quarry further along toward the lower end.”
“And,” pursued Giraffe, following the plan in his mind, “as the hoboes will of course object to taking to the water, we’ll corral the pair in the end.”
“Do you reckon they’ve got any sort of gun along, Thad?” asked Step Hen; though it was not timidity that caused him to ask the question, for as a rule he could be depended on to hold his own when it came to showing fight.
“We don’t know, of course, about that,” he was told; “though it’s often the case that these tramps carry such a thing, especially the dangerous stripe like this Wandering George seems to be.”
“He didn’t pull any gun on the farmer, when Mr. Bailey caught him robbing his desk, you remember, Thad?” Davy mentioned.
“No, but he upset the lamp, and then skipped out, leaving the inmates of the farmhouse to fight the fire, which was a cowardly thing to do,” Bumpus observed.
“I hadn’t forgotten about the chances of them being armed when I spoke of forming a line across the island, and searching every foot of the same,” Thad explained; “and the way we’ll be safe in doing that I’ll explain. Now, we ought to leave two fellows to look after the camp, with a gun between them. The rest can be divided up into three squads, each couple having one of the other guns. We’ll manage to keep in touch with each other, as we work along, zigzag-like, and a signal will tell that the game has been started. Do you understand that?”
“Plain enough, Thad,” Giraffe told him, as he picked up his gun, and in this way signified that he was ready for the start.
“Huh! but who’s going to be left behind?” Bumpus wanted to know; his whole demeanor betraying the fact in advance that he could give a pretty good guess as to who one of the unfortunates might prove to be.
“I think it would be wiser for me to appoint you and Smithy to that post of honor,” he was immediately informed by Thad; “and you want to understand it is just as important that you do your duty well here, as that we carry out our part of the game. A scout never asks why he’s told to do a certain thing, when perhaps he’d like to be in another position. Whether he serves as the hub, the tire, or one of the spokes, he feels that he’s an important part of the whole wheel, and without him nothing can be done. There’s just as much honor in guarding the camp as in creeping through the tangle of vines and scrub bushes. And, Bumpus, I’m the one to judge who’s best fitted for that sort of work.”