"Maybe for instance," laughed Rex. He did not tell Midkiff that he suspected the party encamped on Storm Island was actually expecting the arrival of the crowd from Walcott Hall.
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE VERGE OF SOMETHING.
Through the smother of fine rain the mast and rigging of the Spoondrift loomed above the two swimmers. Midkiff observed, as he caught the anchor cable:
"Must be the boys are asleep. Anybody could steal 'em."
"What for?" chuckled Rex. "Nobody'd want to kidnap this bunch. Tie that painter securely, old man. We don't want to lose the canoes."
"Going to keep watch?" asked Midkiff as they swung over the catboat's rail.
"For what?"
"Those fellows over there may have more boats."
"Not likely. They'd have 'em all moored at one point—below their camp. No. We've appropriated all their means of water locomotion."