“We’re goin’ campin’ for a couple o’ days down to Bluff Creek,” answered Connie. “Say, Nick,” he added, “this Boy Scout business is great. We had a bully time down to Round Rock. We’re goin’ for two weeks next month and have games.”
As the party passed on Nick sat gazing at it in silent thoughtfulness.
[CHAPTER XIII]
MIDNIGHT MARAUDERS
After Connie’s frankness in telling Nick Apthorp where they were going it was freely predicted that their old enemies would surely give the Scouts new trouble.
Bluff Creek got its name from a high bank of clay at a bend in the stream where small fossil forms were plentiful. The water cutting into the bluff constantly presented new specimens—“crinoids” the boys’ teacher termed them. The second day of the outing a number of the campers turned enthusiastic geologists. In their eagerness to secure specimens the boys worked long and hard. When they turned in at an early hour the Goosetowners were practically forgotten.
Art and Colly Craighead were on the first watch from nine until twelve o’clock. They had taken station above and below the three tents, meeting occasionally behind the camp in a grove of cottonwoods for company. While they were on one of these absences from the creek bank three naked forms dropped silently into the water from the opposite bank, and concealed by the water, made their way quickly to the shadow of an overhanging walnut tree in front of the camp. They then disappeared within the gloom of the walnut’s spreading, cave-like roots.
As Art and Colly separated, the former passed between the tents, within which his companions were loudly snoring. Then he stood for a few minutes on the overhanging bank and glanced up and down the glimmering creek, for the moon was nearly half full. With his love for the romantic Art glanced at his watch, walked around the tents once more and then, shouldering his staff, exclaimed in a low voice:
“Eleven o’clock an’ all is well.”