Frank led the way down the path. In a few minutes they heard a snapping of twigs that indicated that the two men were not far ahead. The path dipped sharply, down a rocky slope, sparsely covered with underbrush. Then the brook came into view.
They could see the pair clearly now. One of the men was carrying a lantern; the other bore the long poles and the bag. Drawn up on the side of the brook, below the rocks and just above its mouth, the boys distinguished a small boat.
They crouched in the shelter of the bushes, and watched as the man who carried the lantern put the light down and strode over to a clump of trees from which he presently emerged, carrying a pair of oars. He dumped them into the boat with a clatter, which aroused the wrath of his companion.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded fiercely. "Want to rouse up everybody from here to Bayport?"
"I forgot," the other answered apologetically.
"Don't forget again."
"There's nobody around, anyway."
"Don't be too sure."
He fitted the oars in the rowlocks quietly, and the pair pushed the boat out into the brook.
"What shall we do?" whispered Joe. "Tackle them?"