"That's fine!" exclaimed Bill Wickford, as the tune came to an end. "I wish we had one of those at our camp."
"It might interfere with the seven-up tournament," observed Mr. Cameron, drily.
"Oh, we'd have time for that," said Sam. "But I guess we'd better be getting back. It's late."
"Don't be in a hurry," urged Dick, hospitably.
"Well, we may be over to see you again. We didn't know we had any neighbors so close by."
"You might come over and see us," added Bill, somewhat awkwardly. "We can't offer you much in the way of entertainment, but we'll do our best."
"Thanks," answered Dick. "We may come, but we're going to pull out of this to-morrow, I hope. As soon as we can get out of this sand bog we'll travel."
"We struck one of those places," volunteered Sam, "and we had quite a time of it. Well, so-long," and he and his companion seemed to hover around Mr. Cameron as though they were afraid he would let out something of the secret that had already been told, had they only known it.
Good-nights were said, and the three disappeared in the darkness. The chums stood for a moment silent about their dying camp fire.
"Well, what do you know about that?" asked Paul.