“Why, I thought I heard the splash of a paddle just then, when it was all still!” and the scout-master continued to cock his head on one side, in the act of straining his hearing, as though half expecting to catch a repetition of the sound.
Every scout remained mute, and an anxious look seemed to creep over not a few boyish faces; for they had been told such strange stories about the “hideout” people of Alligator Swamp that all sorts of fancies had taken possession of their young minds.
“You’re right, I do believe, Thad,” muttered Giraffe, who had splendid hearing, as well as wonderful eyesight.
“Then you caught the splash that time, too?” questioned the scout-master.
“Sure pop, and it wasn’t the flap of a ’gator dropping in from a bank, or the sportive play of a muskrat, either. Nothing but a paddle would make that noise; and as sure as you live I can see the canoe acoming this way right now!”
This announcement created no end of excitement. Every fellow thought it was up to him to get in readiness to resist boarders, and when he could not have a gun because there were not enough to go around, at least a club, the camp hatchet, or in an emergency the long bread-knife seemed to offer some degree of comfort.
“I see him too!” remarked Step Hen; and others echoed the words; indeed it would have to be a very dull fellow who could fail to distinguish the moving object that was approaching so boldly.
“He ain’t afraid, anyway!” ventured Davy Jones.
“No more he ain’t,” added Giraffe; “which would seem to give the idea that he didn’t mean us any harm; or else felt that one man was equal to a whole patrol of Boy Scouts, which don’t seem possible.”
“Well, he’s got another guess coming if that’s so,” muttered Bumpus, who, with his gun in hand was not showing much alarm; for since he had seven chums to back him up, the fat scout could not see why he should tremble, save with excitement.