But if the pies were a failure, the rest of the dinner was good, and later on Dick proved that he could make good pastry when he used the right ingredients.
They had more fish that day, as luck was good, but the game was scarce, as might have been expected at that season of the year.
After dinner, the rest of the day was spent in getting the camp into better shape, and making the beds more comfortable. The boys were in the habit of making up a camp fire early in the evening, and sitting in the glow of it to talk. They did this on their second night, and when it had about died down Tom tossed on some heavy sticks of wood and remarked:
“Well, I’m going to turn in. I’m tired and I want some sleep. To-morrow we’ll take a long boat ride.”
“When are we going to the old mill?” asked Jack.
“Oh, maybe we can try that soon if we like,” said Tom.
It was nearly midnight, as Tom ascertained by looking at his watch, when he was suddenly awakened by hearing something moving about near the sleeping tent. At first he thought it was one of his chums, and he called out:
“Who’s that? You, Jack?”
There was no answer, and, looking across to the other cots, our hero saw the forms of his companions under the covers. They were all quiet.
“There’s some one out there,” he murmured.