Before they departed, Jock’s father explained that he had come over to the camp in the early evening with a boatman, but when he discovered that no one was there, he had decided to remain until they returned. As it was now after ten o’clock, he had begun to feel somewhat uneasy; but the fact that all were gone, and that everything about the camp seemed to be in good order, had led him to believe that they could be in no danger, at all events, and so he had waited until the time when his patience had been amply rewarded.
After the messages from the other homes had been delivered, and Mr. Cope had satisfied himself that all were well, he said, “I think we’d better go back to the hotel now, my boy. Your mother will be uneasy about me, to say nothing of you.”
“Do you think it will be safe for Jock to go?” inquired Bob, soberly.
“Safe? Why, yes. Why shouldn’t it be safe?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve been living here in primitive style, you know, and whether Jock will remember how to behave is a question.”
“It’s time he reviewed his lessons, then,” was the reply. “Good night, boys,” he added, as he started toward the dock.
The campers followed Jock and his father to the dock, and as they were about to put off, Bob called out, “I say, Jock, don’t forget to use your fork when you go into the dining room to-morrow.”
“I’ll try not to,” promised Jock.
“And if I’m not mistaken they have napkins there, too.”