“Keep straight on. Whoever may be there are probably fast asleep at this hour.”
Noiselessly they advanced.
“We are in a pond,” the courier whispered an instant later.
“That’s a fact,” his companion agreed, “and that is Boulder island. I know where we are now. I don’t think we have anything to fear, still we’ll keep our guns ready for immediate use.”
The next moment they gained the shore of the island, and stopped in front of the fire, at the tent door. The canvas dwelling was empty.
Ira laughed loudly.
“This is a joke on us!” he exclaimed. “See! there are the fellows’ fishing rods. They were doubtless out hunting when night came on, became separated, and are trying to find each other and their camp. We’ve run away from men who had no thought of pursuing us,” and again he laughed heartily.
Before his comrade could speak a cry came from the main shore.
“Hello there! Who are you in our camp?”
“I ought to know that voice,” the young scout said to the courier. Then he replied: