Tinkle agreed; the rod was taken to pieces and the lines put away, and then the pair stood up.
"Ugh—ah-r-r!" sighed Tinkle. "Don't it make you cramped, and—— I say, Green, there's a man coming, and by gum, I believe it's that Elgert's man—the chap we saw in the cake-shop!"
"So it is," was Green's answer. "And look how he is sauntering. Perhaps he is going to meet some one."
"Let us hide," suggested Tinkle eagerly, "in the old boathouse. We may hear some more secrets."
Green made no objection on the score of eavesdropping; the two boys, bending low, darted across the towing-path, and into an old, dilapidated, wooden building, now fast falling to decay, that had once done duty as a boathouse.
"Oh, I say, here comes Elgert himself!" said Green excitedly, peeping through a hole. "Don't make a sound. I believe——"
"Oh," interrupted Tinkle, in consternation, "they are coming in here! Oh, what ever shall we do?"
"Be quiet, you silly. Hide! Down you go flat under that old boat. Hold up the end while I creep under; and whatever you do, don't sneeze. Mind the net, and——"
His words were cut short by the boat slipping from Tinkle's hands and extinguishing them both. They lay side by side. They were quite safe, for it was most unlikely that Elgert or the man would look beneath it.