"Just think, while we are sleeping, LeBlanc and his outlaws will be coming across the border with their cargo of furs," said Dick, as they prepared for bed. "And we don't get any excitement now till the night after tomorrow. It will seem an age, the waiting."
They were up with the sun, and after breakfast Fernald left to loiter around the town, and see what could be seen, or hear any gossip. Of course by this time LeBlanc knew that Phil had been rescued, so Fernald judged that the safest thing for the boys to do was to keep either in the house or close to it, thus giving LeBlanc the idea that the trio had decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and had gotten out of such a dangerous locality.
"I'd like to have seen LeBlanc's face when he found out that Phil had given him the slip. I'll bet he was mad enough to chew nails," chuckled Garry.
The day did not prove half so long in passing as the boys expected that it would. Mr. Everett told them many a tale of the early days on the border, and other stories of smugglers along the coast line, where he first entered the Customs service.
There was a piano in the parlor, and the boys found that Ruth played in excellent manner, and found hearty enjoyment in singing while she played. Garry was greatly pleased to find that Mr. Everett played chess, and they enjoyed several games.
Fernald returned in the evening with the report that LeBlanc had not put in an appearance, but that Green had been much in evidence all through the afternoon, and wore an aspect of being greatly pleased.
"Tomorrow night he won't be quite so tickled about things as he appeared to be this afternoon," the agent remarked.
"Tomorrow night is a long way off, wish it was tomorrow night right now," half grumbled Phil.
"Patience, my boy, patience. You know all things come to those who wait," said Mr. Everett.
Mr. Everett had gained considerably in strength, and with the exception of his broken arm, was as well as ever, showing what a fine healthy constitution he possessed.