“One thing sure,” Bumpus finally remarked, showing what was constantly on his mind; “they’ve just got to pass by this way sooner or later. Course we’ll see ’em then; and so don’t be surprised if the brush begins to move over yonder, because it’ll be one of our chums.”
“But wouldn’t it be the proper caper for them to warn us before they show up?” asked Smithy. “They know you’ve got a gun, and that’s always a dangerous toy for a boy to handle, according to my way of thinking. Why, you might imagine they were the tramps, and give them a shot before you saw they were our chums.”
“Listen!” said Bumpus, with a broad grin.
There came from amidst the thick brush a peculiar sound that was supposed to resemble the barking of a fox. Of course both guards recognized it as the well-known signal with which members of the Silver Fox Patrol made their presence known to one another when in the forest, or in the darkness of night.
“Answer him, Bumpus,” exclaimed Smithy, “because you can do it better than I’ve ever been able to. There he goes again, and louder than before. It must be Giraffe, I should think. Let him know we hear him, Bumpus.”
Accordingly the stout boy did his very best to imitate the sharp little bark of a fox; it did not matter whether red, black or gray, so long as the sound carried out the idea intended.
At that a head arose above a line of brush, and the smiling face of Giraffe was discovered. He made a motion with his hand to indicate that he and his five fellow scouts were headed south.
“No signs of ’em so far, Giraffe?” asked Bumpus, in a cautious tone; and in answer the other shook his head in the negative, after which he once more dropped out of sight, and doubtless moved away on his mission.
The pair by the fire now prepared for quite a long siege. They guessed that it would take the others quite some time to cover the balance of the island, although of course no one in the patrol knew as yet just what the dimensions of their strange prison might be.
“Supposing they run across George and his companion, will they let us know of their good fortune?” Smithy asked, after a while, when nothing came to their ears save the sound of the running river and the cawing of the noisy crow band in the tree tops.