So we hurried through our suppers, and started on the return trip. Joe Carter walked a little in advance, calling out from time to time:—
"You fellers better hurry up, unless you want to camp all night in the woods."
Then he would casually take out his revolver and look mysteriously toward the deep undergrowth on each side of the road, as if to signify that he could not hold himself responsible for what manner of thing might beset us after the powers of darkness should be exalted.
We did not want to camp all night in the woods (Ed Mason and I had not forgotten a certain experience!) and we hastened our steps.
When we reached Mr. Harris's little shanty, it was closed and locked, and the old gentleman had gone,—whither we knew not. Our fish he had kindly preserved for us in a pail of water. We gathered them up, and hurried on.
We debated what was the exact hour, and both Ed Mason and Rob Currier thought that sunset was close upon us. Ed remarked that he had seen one or two bats fluttering about, as we came through the woods. Evidently the creatures of the night were beginning to make their appearance.
Tired we were,—we knew that,—and a little moody at the thought of approaching school. I had a small, sharp pebble in my shoe, which made walking very painful. So I had to delay the party until I could rid myself of it.
Finally we left the railroad track, and started on the home stretch over the old turnpike. We felt more at ease now, since houses were in plain sight, and the town distant only a matter of thirty minutes' walking.
Here we met a man driving a sorrel horse in a wagon.
Joe Carter hailed him.