“Not that I am aware. At any rate, I don’t see ghosts flitting about over the river,” parried Ralph, with a good-natured laugh at the discomfited Harry’s expense.
“But why go ashore? It looks like a mighty dangerous place to me,” supplemented Percy Simmons.
“I want to go ashore for just one reason,” said Ralph, “and that is to satisfy myself that no human beings were injured in that explosion.”
“You’re dead right, Ralph,” exclaimed Harry heartily, wringing his chum’s hand; “we didn’t think of that. We’re with you from the jump, old chap, and if any one has been injured you can rely upon it that we will do our best for them.”
“I knew you’d think that way about it, boys,” said Ralph. “And now let’s pull in toward shore. I guess we needn’t fear another explosion.”
“There’s a rough sort of landing pier ahead,” said Harry, as they drew closer. “Better pull in there.”
The boat’s head was swung. In a few minutes more she grated against the ramshackle timbers of a tumble-down dock.
“Now then, boys, pile out. Let’s see what has been going on here,” said Ralph, in a brisk voice, as he shipped his oars and tied the painter to a convenient pile. The others clambered up after him on the wharf. A short distance back from the shore the remains of the exploded hut still glowed, casting a lurid light about the scene. Through the ruddy glow they saw a figure come striding toward them as they advanced up the dock.
“Some one coming,” declared Ralph. “Hullo, there, you! We saw the explosion from the water. Is any one hurt? Do you want help?”
Right then the Border Boys were in for the surprise of their lives, though they did not know it till the advancing figure, that of a tall, strongly built young man, spoke.