“There are thistles in mine!”
Groans and muttered imprecations followed. Dan Baxter and his cronies were wild with rage. They had to light a lantern and clean their cots and blankets with care. The boys outside sneaked to their own quarters, laughing heartily to themselves.
“When did you do it, Andy?” asked Dale.
“While the shooting was going on. I got the burrs and thistles while I was out walking this afternoon.”
“They won’t forget this encampment in a hurry,” said Pepper, with a grin.
“Look out that they don’t pay us back.”
There was other fun afloat that night, but our friends did not hear of it until morning. Then Jack brought the news.
“We are in a pickle now,” announced the young major.
“What’s up, Jack?” questioned Pepper.
“Every boat is gone.”