About him sat or stood all the members of the Tent Ten group, and a number of other boys who listened joyously to his tale. Chink Towner and Wild Willie Sanders perched at the foot of his bed; Fat Crampton, with wide eyes and open mouth, hung upon his words; Steve Link was there, and Sunfish Linder, and Spaghetti Megaro, and many others.
“And were you scared when those big bloodhounds jumped up at the tree and tried to get you?” piped up little Pete Lister.
“Say, I hung on and said my prayers!” answered Sherlock amid laughter. “But pretty soon along came a man named Harris, and he chained ’em up, and after that it was all right.”
“But how did Jake and the man get away so quick?” asked Soapy Mullins.
“You’ll have to ask him that.”
“I tried to ask him this morning,” put in Lefkowitz, “but he wouldn’t tell me a thing. But he came to camp real late last night; I was awake and saw him get here.”
“We’ll know all about it pretty soon,” observed Gil Shelton, who was sitting on the steps of the tent. “Here they both come now, up from the lodge. Guess they want to see you, Sherlock.”
Sherlock drew forth his handkerchief. “I used to think I was some punkins as a detective,” he announced, “but I’ll say right here that the Utway twins have got it all over me when it comes to solving mysteries. From now on, I resign! A thousand mysteries can happen around this camp, and I won’t lift my little finger!”
A low cheer broke forth as the two brothers stepped into the shadow of the tent-house. “Yay, Jake! Yay, Jerry!”
Jake grinned. “Hello, Sherlock, old boy! How have you been since I last saw you? Get down that tree all right?”