'I don't know,' I reply. 'Shall we check it out?'
'Let's do it,' he answers.
Very quietly, we slip out of the sleeping bags and crawl to the tent opening. Roger opens the flaps a crack and peeks out. I get above him and look out over his head.
There's just enough moonlight to make out the trees and the nearby tents. We can see Mother and Daddy's tent in front of ours. The sounds are coming from off to one side.
I look down at Roger. His eyes are wide. So are mine, I guess.
'Are you game?' I ask him.
'OK,' Roger says.
I lift the lantern from its hook. I don't switch it on; there's enough moonlight so that we can see well enough.
Opening the tent flap just enough, we slip out, stoop far over, and tiptoe in the direction of the sounds. We're very quiet and don't even whisper.
Up ahead, among the trees, is where campers bring things they don't want, like empty tin cans and dinner leftovers that can't be saved until the next mealtime. The sounds are coming from that direction.
Soon we're among the trees and near the large plastic containers where the trash is stored. We're close enough to a container to touch it, but of course, we don't.