“What’s the racket?” asked Frank.
“Why, Pomp and his banjo are gone, too,” said Charley, with a smile, and then he told his cousin the stableman’s idea.
“I’m glad,” said Frank. “We can rescue them both in the morning. What camp is that out there?”
“The combined enemy.”
“In numbers?”
“Two to one or more against this party,” said Charley. “If they don’t trouble us we will not trouble them. Come, drive your horse in under the trees.”
The machines were both safely brought into the grove, where by the light of the little camp-fire the drivers of the respective contrivances thoroughly cleaned all parts, and had things in readiness for a rapid run at any moment.
Then guards were selected to watch over the slumbers of the rest, but Frank put in his oar.
“It is quite unnecessary, gentlemen,” said the young genius; “there is no need that any of you should lose one hour’s sleep in order to guard the slumbers of this party. If you will give me your aid for one minute I’ll undertake to guard the camp and go to sleep myself.”
They looked at him in surprise.