Left at the camp by the departure of Ned and Jimmie, Jack, Frank and Harry sat for a long time in the warm sunshine in front of the barrier and discussed the situation. Gilroy had tucked himself into a collection of blankets at the rear of the cave and was sound asleep.
“What do you think Jimmie had in his mind when he went away alone?” asked Harry. “He merely had some plan to carry out.”
“Oh, he’s always going off alone,” Jack answered.
“Some day he’ll go away alone and won’t be able to get back!” Frank put in. “He won’t always be able to get out of his scrapes.”
“Pretty foxy boy, that!” Jack declared.
“What strikes me as being singular,” Frank suggested, “is that Jack’s father never said a word to him about this land business.”
“Father never talks his business over with any one,” Jack broke in.
“If we had only known about the outlaws being here in the hills,” Harry suggested, “we might have kept out of sight of them for a long time. But, you see, they found us first.”
“And they used a nice, crooked little spy to do it with!” Frank exclaimed. “This little alleged Boy Scout who stole our provisions last night, and crept into the woods to tell Jimmie and I to beat it, and then brought a note to Ned to get him away from the camp, must be playing a leading part for the sneaks.”
“He’s doing all of that!” Jack agreed. “I don’t believe he’s a Boy Scout at all. He’s just picked up a word or two and a sign.”