“Did—didn’t you say something, back there, about a reward?”
“Sure,” the boy whispered. “You must have guessed they would offer some money for your capture. That’s why we’ll have to keep you out of sight all the time, until you find that necklace. Now, better not talk any more—that prison guard might spot us.”
The campus was undisturbed; no light showed anywhere through the rain. It was probable that the twins had not been missed, and stood a good chance of returning to their bunks undetected. Both boys were busily planning their new adventure, and first and foremost in their thoughts was the safety and comfort of the man they had promised to aid.
Between the pillars supporting the downhill end of the lodge, a loosely-boarded structure had been built next to the dark-room. This large space was used for storing the trunks, suitcases, and warbags which had served to transport the outfits of the campers from their homes. The trunk room was seldom entered during the season. Jerry’s idea of hiding Burk in this place, directly beneath the feet of the campers as they assembled for meals, was not in reality such a dangerous scheme. Unless he took to the open woods again, there was no other place on the Lenape campus which afforded such secrecy and protection. All the man had to do was to lie here snugly, resting and regaining his strength, and unless he made a suspicious noise, he might go undiscovered for some time.
Jake pushed the door open a crack and tiptoed softly inside. The others entered behind him, and Jerry snapped on his light. Their shadows stretched gigantically across the rough floor and scaled the heaps of piled trunks and suitcases. Dry, warm, protected, and seldom entered, here was a good refuge for the outlaw.
“If you hear anybody coming, you can hide behind a pile of trunks,” pointed out Jerry. “You can easily stay here until to-morrow night. Jakie, you see if you can make him comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Jerry left them, and went to the kitchen. His hunch was a good one. On one of the tables he located a pile of pans and dishes which had been brought in by the late-returning hikers that evening. His guarded flashlight revealed that much unused food had also been returned. He found a pan half full of beans, an untouched loaf of bread, some butter and jam, and a can of pineapple which he opened before returning with his trove to the trunk room.
“Food,” he announced. “This will hold you down for a while, Mr. Burk. We’ll try to bring more to-morrow, if we can do it safely. In the meantime you can be having a long sleep.”
“I found a good place,” said Jake. He pointed to a far corner of the room, where an old, patched canvas, the remains of a worn-out tent, was folded to form a rough bed. Burk wore Jake’s sweater over his wet garments. The man had seized eagerly upon the food, and was stowing it away in short order.
“These boards may not be the softest bed in the world, but at any rate, it’s better than the wet ground on a night like this,” Jake went on. “I guess you’ll be able to sleep. But be careful not to stir around too much. All day to-morrow, until taps, there will be at least a dozen fellows around within a few feet of this place. And to-morrow night, when everybody’s asleep, we’ll come and get you.”