Two, three minutes passed.
Elmer did not believe it would be good policy for them to continue to advance any further. He did not wish to get so close to the man that the other could by a sudden rush reach them before they were able to do anything.
By a low hiss he warned his comrades that the critical time had arrived, when every scout would be expected to do his duty.
Then slowly he got up, first on his knees, and then on his feet. Every fellow duplicated his move, so that the entire seven were now standing there, forming a line slightly inclined to resemble the new crescent moon.
And there was Hen Condit turning his head around to stare at them, his face as white as the chalk they were accustomed to use upon the blackboard in school. His eyes were as round as circles, while upon his strained countenance hope, fear, expectation, almost a dozen emotions struggled for the mastery.
"Hello! Joe!" called out Elmer, without the slightest warning.
Up rose the head of the man who was busy cleaning the fish. When he saw those seven khaki-clad figures standing there, with two shotguns bearing directly on his person, he was to all appearances struck dumb for the moment. His eyes stared and his mouth fell open. Fish and knife dropped from his nerveless hands.
"Caught, by thunder! and by a bunch of boys at that!"
These words burst from his lips, after which he started to use some pretty strong language until Elmer put his foot down sternly.
"Stop that kind of talk, Joe!" he ordered. "We've got you rounded up, and there's no use kicking. If you make a move to run, or jump this way, we'll fill you full of bird-shot, do you hear?"