At five o’clock in the afternoon, Alex sent Uncle Zeke out to catch more fish and began building up the fire.
“What’s coming off now?” asked Jule.
“What do you ’spose is coming off?” demanded Alex. “I haven’t had anything to eat for two or three hours.”
“The kid is all right!” Clay declared. “We must get supper early and make up a lot of sandwiches for midnight. We may have to lay and wait in the cut-off for hours before we can get to the Rambler. We can’t show any lights, and so it will be impossible to cook. So, as Alex will be sure to be hungry, we’ll take our midnight supper with us.”
“What you going to make your sandwiches of?” asked Jule.
“Huh,” laughed Alex, “I’m going to take fat perch and stuff ’em with beans and chicken. How would a sandwich like that go on South Clark street?”
“It would go down mighty quick!” laughed Jule.
After eating their supper and putting up a large supply of provisions for the night, the boys made ready for their trip to what Zeke declared to be the pirates’ nest. They were at twilight, moving slowly, silently across the river and then down the cut-off, which at high water was navigable for small boats, and which would soon make an island of the peninsula enclosed within the rim of the river.
By nine o’clock it was very dark. The trees overhanging the narrow channel through which the boat was poled and dragged—the water being too shallow in places for the use of the oars—stood like grim walls, shutting out what little light came from the uncertain sky.
Owing to fallen trunks and heaps of rubbish washed in by a recent freshet, the cut-off was difficult of navigation, but just after midnight the lads saw across a wooded point of land a strong light flash out for a moment and then die away.