True to the arrangement, Dalton’s man arrived the next morning with two trucks instead of one and another man to assist. They were real New Englanders, with speech quaint to these young people. The head man told the girls that the shack would be up by night. They thought that he was joking, but if it had not been for a few hindrances it might have been accomplished. It was necessary, however, to fasten it very securely to the rocks, for lack of much foundation, though Sarita declared that it fulfilled every requirement of a house founded upon the rock.
It was surprising how much two men with Dalton’s trained assistance could accomplish in one day, and they left for home well satisfied with what had been done. As some more lumber was needed the men drove the trucks back to town, but they promised to come early and expected to stay the next night and, indeed, until the Eyrie was completed.
Neither Jack nor Peggy put in an appearance, but the girls scarcely thought about it, in the excitement of the growing building. Leslie had told Sarita and Dalton about her having seen the launch move toward Steeple Rocks, and both girls related what had happened before to Dalton. He said little, but seemed to agree with them in regard to the possibilities.
That night it was the girls who retired before Dalton. He was fussing around, as Leslie expressed it, seeing that tools were under cover and everything about their materials in order, when they left him and went into their tent.
Remembering what warnings had been given him, Dalton felt a little uneasy, now that they were actually launched in building, though in so small a way. He hoped that no one had discovered the undertaking so far.
Finally he went to bed and slept till some time past midnight when he woke with an uneasy feeling. The surf was booming beyond the camp and the rocks. He heard an owl hooting in the woods. Then he thought he heard sounds as if someone or something was moving through the thickets or brushing by the bushes along the path. It would be hard to make one’s way through this grove without some noise.
Again he heard the cracking of a stick. Reaching for his gun, Dalton sprang out of his cot and peered through the flap of his tent. A dark figure was stealthily entering the camp, making its way toward the pile of lumber. It was carrying something. This was placed against the lumber and a match was lit.
Dalton waited no longer. He stepped out from his tent, directed his gun toward the stars, away from the tents, and fired. Crack! The shot reverberated among the rocks and the intruder lost no time in getting out of range and sight. Dalton smiled grimly as he ran in apparent pursuit, but really to see that the dropped match had gone out. He darted behind the lumber, then, not knowing but the shot might be returned. The sounds of someone crashing through the woods came to him and he came to the conclusion that he had successfully frightened away his enemy. Most likely he would not want to be identified, Dalton thought. There was not much danger that there would be any battle now.
“Oh, Dal! What is the matter? What—are you hurt?”
Here was Leslie, coming from the door of his tent, where she had evidently gone first to find him.