“But say, tell me how you expect to work it, please Jack, before you go.”
“If you mean the boat, that’s a simple thing,” the skipper told him. “You know we’ve got a strong push-pole that’s a pretty good length? Well, I took soundings as we came in toward the shore, and found that the river is fairly shallow around here. With that pole we can push out into the stream quite a little distance. Then we’ll just lie low and let her float on the current.”
“Well, now, I sort of expected that would be the programme,” said George; “and I certainly agree with you there. Silence is our best asset in a game like this. We’d feel pretty cheap and small after getting well started if all of a sudden some one called out of the darkness: ‘Tag—you’re it!’”
George, finding Jack had slipped away meanwhile, and that he was merely talking to empty space, drew the line at wasting his breath in this manner, and relapsed into silence.
When Jack got back to the little fire he found that, short though the time had been, Josh had made rapid headway with his supper. The pannikin was already more than half empty, and that must be his third cup of coffee Buster was pouring out for him.
Everybody looked up as Jack came into camp.
“You’ll have just five minutes more, Josh, to finish your supper,” was the first thing the other said as he joined them.
Josh looked surprised.
“What! so soon?” he exclaimed, and then started in to devour his food ravenously, as though determined to make the best of the limited time.
Buster laughed softly.