“A good plan, certainly,” criticised Dick, “only how are we going to imitate that peculiar, mysterious whistle. I’m sure I couldn’t.”
“I couldn’t either,” declared Sandy.
Toma put two fingers to his mouth and blew softly. It was an excellent imitation of the sound the boys had heard on the previous day, and both Dick and Sandy clapped their hands in delight.
“You’re good!” Sandy exclaimed. “I’m proud of you. How can you manage to do it, after hearing it only once?”
“I hear it many times,” flushed the young Indian. “You see, there is bird that hide deep in the woods that make ’em call like that. Frischette, jus’ like me, try make sound like that bird.”
“We’ll go tonight,” exulted Dick.
The other two nodded in agreement.
“Ten o’clock will be a good time,” Sandy suggested. “Dick and I will enter the cabin, while you, Toma, practice your wiles upon the thieving Mr. Creel. Lead him away from the cabin as far as you can, so that we’ll have plenty of time to look around. We may have some trouble in finding the place where he has hid the box.”
The boys had worked themselves up to a high pitch of excitement long before the time appointed for setting out on their night’s adventure. In order not to arouse Frischette’s suspicions, should he discover their absence, they had informed him that they were planning to go over to Lake Grassy Point, a distance of about eight miles, and visit the Indian encampment there. Fontaine and Le Sueur, they explained, would accompany them too, and he, Frischette, must not worry if they were late in getting back.
To their surprise, the arrangement met with the Frenchman’s immediate approval.