He thought for a moment, then remembered a deep hollow which he had encountered but a short while before. Gazing around, to make certain that nobody was watching him, he picked up the unconscious lad and stalked off with the form, back into the jungle and up a small hill.
At the top there was a split between the rocks and dirt, and into this he dropped poor Dick, a distance of twenty or more feet. Then he threw down some loose leaves and dead tree branches.
"Now I reckon I am getting square with those Rovers," he muttered, as he hurried away.
The others of the Rover party wondered why Dick did not join them when they gathered around the camp-fire that night.
"He must be done fishing by this time," said Tom. "I wonder if anything has happened to him?"
"Let us take a walk up de lake an' see," put in Aleck, and the pair started off without delay.
They soon found the spot where Dick had been fishing. His rod and line lay on the bank, just as he had dropped it upon Josiah Crabtree's approach.
"Dick! Dick! Where are you?" called out Tom.
No answer came back at first. Then, to Tom's astonishment, a strange voice answered from the woods: "Here I am! Where are you?"
"Dat aint Dick," muttered Aleck. "Dat's sumbuddy else, Massah
Tom."