Sherlock smiled with satisfaction in the darkness. He, too, had a score to pay off, and he would see that the brothers who had misused him would not get off lightly. His preparations were made. Cautiously he felt under his bunk to make sure that all the equipment he needed was at hand.
A few stars sparkled down through the softly-swaying pine branches. Nothing was heard in the tent now save the heavy breathing of the weary sleepers, led by Fat Crampton’s rumbling bass snore. Far up the mountain behind camp a dog barked somewhere. The travelling spot of a flashlight came up the path as the Chief passed by noiselessly on his nightly round. Sherlock caught himself nodding—tried to jerk himself into wakefulness—nodded again....
He woke with a start. A dim bulk of shadow moved against the dull starlight; Jake Utway was dressing hastily in the dark. He waited until Jake had slipped on his tennis shoes and had noiselessly tiptoed down the steps. A light footfall from the path told him that Jerry was joining the party. “Got the frog?” he heard Jake whisper; the forms of the two brothers melted into the dark in the direction of Tent Fifteen.
Sherlock waited no longer. He sprang from his blankets, and stripped off his pajamas. He had, unseen by his tent-mates, slipped into bed fully dressed beneath his nightwear. It was the work of a few instants to slide his feet into a pair of moccasins and drop over the edge of the tent floor. Clutched under one arm he carried his camera, his most prized possession. In the other hand he bore a metal pan with a short handle, and a package labeled “flashlight powder.”
CHAPTER III
THE MIDNIGHT MAN
Through the gloom the Utway twins felt their way down the hill, trusting to the touch of their feet to keep them on the path that ran through the pines on the northern edge of the campus. Jerry carried under his sweater the bulging form of the big frog, whose long legs jerked fitfully.
Jake grabbed his brother’s arm. “Hark!” he whispered. “I thought I heard something over to the right—there in the bushes!” They listened.
“You must be dreaming still! I don’t hear anything. Come on! You aren’t scared, are you?”
“Aw, say! Let’s hurry up, though. We don’t want to get caught. You still got Alexander good and tight?”
Jerry resisted a particularly violent kick from Alexander, the frog, and again moved forward. They were now close to the dull patch of canvas that marked Tent Fifteen, the tent furthest away from the lodge. The twins had marked beforehand the lower bunk occupied by Mr. Colby, which was on the far side. With the greatest caution, the twins circled through the underbrush and crept beneath the moorings of the tent-ropes. The councilor’s bunk was now at hand. It was their aim to slip Alexander beneath the blankets, and retreat into the cover of the pines, there to await the startled yell that would tell them Mr. Colby had discovered his slippery bedfellow.