Bobolink was not greedy, but he really hoped that if any sort of trouble did come it would come along while he and Andy were holding the post of guards. He had a little fear that Spider Sexton might not be depended on, no matter what his good intentions, while Tom Betts was an unknown quantity.
In case Andy happened to be sitting in one boat, while Bobolink was occupying the other, they had fixed it up so that by taking a lead pencil, the "commander" could give a few little light taps on the side of the craft, using his knowledge of the Morse code to send the message, and in this way ask whether his assistant were wide awake, and on the job, when Andy would send back a reply along the same order; for he aspired to be a signal man of the troop, and was daily practicing with the wigwag flags, as well as smoke and fire signals.
The town clock boomed out the hour of ten.
Bobolink had himself begun to feel rather sleepy, and more to arouse his dormant faculties than anything else, he sent a message along the wooden telegraph line. The reply was a bit slow in coming, which made him think Andy might also be inclined to fall into a doze.
So Bobolink decided that he must bestir himself, and give the signal more frequently. He would not have this, his first important commission, turn out poorly, for a good deal. Perhaps his whole future usefulness as a scout who could be depended on in emergencies rested on the way he accounted for the safety of the motorboats this night.
When he found himself letting his eyes shut, even for a minute, he would immediately try to picture the consternation that would ensue should a fire suddenly envelope the boats that had been placed in the hands of the scouts, and for which they would be held responsible.
He knew Ted Slavin of old, and felt that the town bully would not hesitate at even such a thing as that.
Then there was such a thing as cutting the hawser, and letting the boats drift down-stream, to bring up against some rocks that might stave a hole in the delicate planking. Who could tell but what the rope had parted under a strain? Sometimes a break may look like the work of a sharp knife; and anyway, as darkness lay upon the scene, with a cloudy sky overhead to hide the young moon, the identity of the vandal could never be absolutely known.
All these things Bobolink was turning over and over in his mind as he sat there trying to keep awake.
It is one of the hardest things to do, and especially when the subject is only a half-grown lad, with but a dim idea of the responsibility depending on the faithful discharge of his duty.