At the moment of their approach, Alex was taking the fish from the fire, Clay was opening tinned goods, and Uncle Zeke stood mourning over the fact that he had not sooner discovered the presence of the yellow-legged chicken.
The boys dashed down to the fire with shouts of joy, and the reader may well understand that their welcome was a hearty one.
“Where’s the Rambler?” Case asked of Alex after the greetings were over. “She ought to be put there in the cove.”
“The pirates got her!” Alex answered briefly.
“Have you been to breakfast?” Clay cut in.
“Have we been to breakfast?” repeated Case,
“We’ve been captured, and fed, and released since we saw you. Do you know, boys,” he added, dancing cautiously around, “that I’ve got an idea that we’re mixing up with night-riders.”
“We have just been informed of that fact by Uncle Zeke,” Clay answered. “Where did you see night-riders?” he added.
“Just after you left,” Case explained, “a company of men came here on horses. We heard them talking about our being spies. Then we were taken to a house back in the country and locked up. Then we were given a peach of a breakfast by the kindliest old lady you ever saw and turned loose. Now what do you think of all that?”
“Night-riders!” exclaimed Alex. “Why do the riders ride, and why do the riders ride at night?” “You’ve come to the right shop for information,” Jule replied with a grin. “Just before we left Chicago I was reading a book about night-riders. They ride because they can’t get over the ground fast enough on foot, and they ride at night because they don’t want any one to see them riding.”