They moved off into the woods and approached the camp from a different direction from the maple clump.
The day passed pleasantly enough, the boys enjoying the camp life and the swimming. That evening, as they finished their suppers, a beautiful full moon made its appearance in the sky.
“Going to have a fine old moon to sleep under tonight,” remarked Drummer.
The act of retiring to the tents and stealing off to the maple grove was again performed and once in the grove they sat on their blankets and talked in low tones. The night was so fine that no one actually wanted to go to sleep, though it was now the usual time.
“Well, we might as well turn in,” yawned Ted, beginning to unbutton his shirt. The others reluctantly followed his example and soon most of them had slipped in under the blankets. Ted took a final look down at the camp.
The fires were low, almost out, in fact. The brilliant moon lighted up the camp like a silvery lantern and the entire landscape, done in silver and black, was hauntingly beautiful. Ted felt a flash of annoyance at the train of circumstances which was compelling them to spend the night away from their tents.
“Too bad we have to fool around with those fellows,” he grumbled, inwardly. “This would be a beautiful night to lie in the tents and look out at things. I wish—”
He broke off in his thoughts and bent forward, his eyes narrowed. Then he snapped his fingers softly and hissed. The boys sat up in their blankets.
“What’s up?” Buck whispered, quickly.
“Get up, but don’t make any noise, on your lives!” was the thrilling reply, in a carefully guarded tone. “There is a figure all in white in the trees close to the creek!”