“That’s the stuff. Well, we’ll start as soon as it gets a little darker.”
Jerry and his chums gathered up several mysterious-looking packages, and a little later they left the tent by the rear, crawling under the canvas to keep out of sight of any prying ones who might be gathered in front.
It was about a mile to where Sid Joffy lived alone in his cabin on the edge of the clearing. The boys soon covered the distance, however, and came to a halt in a little clump of woodland, just opposite the somewhat dilapidated shack where the shiftless man made his home.
“He’s in, for I can see a light in the cabin,” whispered Ned.
“There’s no telling by that,” replied Jerry. “He’d leave a lamp burning all day and night rather than take the trouble to blow it out. Sneak up there and take a look in.”
“I will,” volunteered Bob.
“No, Chunky, you’re too heavy to go lightly. Let Andy go. He’s small and not so easily seen. But hold your hand over your mouth, Andy, so you won’t get to talking by mistake.”
“I won’t,” promised the little chap, proud to be in on some scheme with his friends the motor boys.
He glided off into the darkness, and presently returned.