The anchor was hoisted and the sails set, and in a few minutes the sloop had left the island and was on her way down the lake.
"We won't go near Glen Arbor," said Martin. "Let them find out about the affair in the natural way. If we report it we may get ourselves into trouble."
"But the squire——" began Toglet.
"That's none of our affair. We'll land near Westville, and watch our chance to report."
It was about four o'clock when the two rascals beached the sloop in an out-of-the-way spot just north of the village in which Ralph lived. No one had seen their coming, and as quickly as they could they left the craft and then sent her adrift.
Both of the men had worn wigs, and these they now cast aside, altering their appearance slightly. Their guns and game-bags were hidden behind a pile of decayed logs and then they sneaked through the woods toward the hill at the extremity of Westville.
They waited about Squire Paget's house for nearly an hour and at last saw that gentleman come out and start up the country road which led away from the village center.
Presently the squire came to an old, disused cottage, which years previous had been used as a road tavern. Here he halted, and the two men at once joined him.
"It's done, squire," said Martin.
"Hush! not here," cried Paget, in a scared voice. "Come inside."