“Oh, yes, Stumpy,” remarked Ned. “We know just how you feel about it,” and he laughed, whereat Fenn blushed, for he was rather sensitive concerning his liking for young ladies.
“Leaving Mr. Hayward out of it, what do you intend to do, after we’ve got our camp established?” asked Frank, looking at Fenn, with whom this idea had originated.
“I’m going to see what those men were doing on the cliff,” was the decided answer. “Maybe they were Chinese smugglers. If they were—”
“Yes, if they were I s’pose Stumpy will climb up there single handed, make ’em all prisoners, and then write a half-dime novel about it,” put in Bart.
“Not exactly,” answered Fenn. “I don’t see what’s to hinder me giving information to the government, though, about the smugglers, if that’s what they are. I understand there’s a reward for that sort of information, and I could use a bit of spare cash as well as any one.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed Ned. “I didn’t think about that. I’m with you, Stumpy.”
“You’ll want half the reward, I guess,” interjected Bart.
“Sure,” said Ned. “Who wouldn’t? Why can’t we all go in on this thing?”
“Of course we can,” declared Fenn. “We’ll go camping somewhere back of that cliff, and then we can—”
“Hush! Not so loud!” suddenly cautioned Frank. Then, bending his head closer to his chums, as they were sitting in two seats facing each other he added: “There’s a man a couple of seats back who’s been watching us pretty sharply ever since we began talking this way. I don’t like his looks.”