"Well, perhaps he did. We'll find out. And to do that we'll have to keep watch. We'll take turns, as sentries do in the army. After we finish eating and get the bunks ready we'll divide into watches."
"Oh, this sure is fun!" cried Rick, with eager, sparkling eyes. The novelty of camping almost made him forget, at moments, the loss of Ruddy. But not quite.
"I can't see why the junk man left his horse and wagon here and went away," said the Scout Master, as the rattle of knives and forks on the tin plates told that little more remained to be eaten.
"Maybe he ran away because he was afraid of being caught," suggested Chot.
"No, I think not," spoke Sam Brown. "There's another junk man located somewhere around here. He hasn't been here long, and he stays in an old tumble-down house near the swamp, I guess. There used to be gypsies there, but they went away."
"Do you think the sailor took my dog there?" asked Rick.
"Maybe," answered Sam. "We can look."
"But I think it would not be wise for us to go there to-night," remarked the Scout Master, as he guessed what Rick was going to say. "Those men could easily hide Ruddy in the darkness. The safest and best plan will be to wait for them to come here, as they are sure to do."
Rick, who was going to become a Boy Scout, did as all members of those troops do—he obeyed the Scout Master, and then began the long watch and wait through the night.
The boys had brought blankets, and with these the beds were made up on the bunks which the former gun club members had built in the log cabin so some of them could sleep there when they wished.