First of all, he got the food supplies all together. Most of this stuff was in the form of canned goods. Ripley gathered it up in one big pile.
Then he stepped over to the tent, from which, at several points and angles he looked carefully over to the hotel landing float on the other side of Lake Pleasant.
"They can't see, from the hotel, whether the tent is down or up,"
Fred determined. "So here goes!"
Opening the largest blade of his pocketknife, Fred cut one of the guy-ropes. He passed around the tent, cutting each one in turn, until the canvas shelter fell over in a white mass.
"Won't they be sore, though?" laughed Fred maliciously, as he started to carry off the camp supplies.
Gr-r-r-r-r! Gr-r-r-r!
Just as Fred was straightening up to start off with his load for a bush-screen near the lake front, Ripley heard that ominous growl. There was also the sound of something moving through the bushes.
As Fred turned his face blanched.
"Harry Hazelton's bull-dog!" he quivered, now utterly frightened as he caught sight of the gleaming teeth in that ugly muzzle. "I didn't know that they had brought that beast with them. It's the lake for mine! If I can only get into the water I can swim faster than the dog!"
All this flashed through his mind in an Instant. Young Ripley started in full flight.