“Its very close to the water,” George growled, as he made a vain effort to ease his aching shoulders.
“It’s from two to five feet from the water,” Steve replied. “That’s plenty of room to go between it and the shore, and plenty of room to measure the fine shadow there will be.”
“Then we must draw cuts to see whether it’s the right evergreen, as the book says.”
This was done, and they found that this was the tree intended.
Again they marched on, and presently stood before the mystic tree.
The Sage halted, and threw down the coil of rope with a sigh of relief. “The coast is clear, boys,” he said, joyously. “There is no one here swimming, or out boating, or shooting squirrels, or——”
“Or fishing for water-snakes and crunching peppermint candy,” Steve put in, as a finale.
For a moment George looked vexed; but this was Stephen’s way, and he knew no insult was intended.
If the boys had known that this very evergreen, under which they stood, harbored an enemy, they would have acted differently. Bob Herriman had ensconced himself in this tree, and even while Steve spoke, he was trying to rub the gum off his hands and clothes, and glaring wickedly down at the heroic six and the equally heroic dog, Carlo.
“Well, boys,” George observed, “I must go on alone, with Steve close behind to measure my shadow. If we all go crowding along together, somebody will get shoved into the river.”