“I believe it is thought to be a very good one. We shall want to know when it is to be given so that we can all come over and see it.”
“I’ll let ye know when it comes off.”
Ethan suddenly placed a finger in his mouth and emitted a shrill whistle. “I guess that’ll call up Tom,” he explained.
A repetition of the signal brought the reluctant Tom from the woods, and as he approached the dock he gazed in a shame-faced way at Bob, as if he expected him to say something about what had happened; but Bob’s face was still expressionless, to the evident comfort of the young fisherman.
“Step lively here, Tom,” called his father. “We must get these trunks and things up to the camp afore night. You ’most scared these boys to death with your Hamlick,” he added.
“Your father has been telling us about the play you are to give at the Corners, Tom,” said Bob, quietly. “We shall want to come over and see it. You mustn’t fail to let us know when it is to be given.”
Somewhat reassured by the kind manner of Bob, Tom was more at his ease and at once began to assist his father in transferring the cargo of the little boat to the camp.
The other boys now returned, but a warning look from Bob caused them all to be silent about the recent occurrence. In a brief time the trunks had been placed in the tent where they belonged, the canoes were left on the shore, and then Ethan and Tom began to prepare supper.
The appetites of the boys apparently were as keen as they had been at noon time, and the rapidity with which the table was cleared was a delight to Ethan’s heart. Neither Hamlick nor the Ghost could interfere now, for the demands of their hunger were supreme.