“A howling dog, ghostly figures and a mysterious vanishing light,” muttered the Texan. “This sure is all very fine and interesting. Yes, fellows, we’ll visit that island tomorrow.”
Presently, when they went to bed and tried to sleep, Piper was not the most restless one among them. On the previous night, after disposing of the sleeping bag, he had rolled and groaned while his companions snoozed comfortably and serenely, but now he heard first one and then another stirring on the bough beds, and it was a long time before the breathing of any boy indicated that he had succeeded in cajoling slumber. Even after he was asleep Crane tossed and muttered incoherently. Piper was just drifting off when Sile uttered a sudden yell, which was followed by a tremendous commotion.
“I’ve got ye!” cried Crane wildly. “I’ve got ye!”
“Lemme go! Take your hooks off my windpipe!” wheezed the voice of Springer. “Help, fellows! Sile has gone loony! He’s ch-choking me!”
In the darkness there was a scramble to separate the struggling bed-fellows, and, with remarkable forethought, Piper, keeping away from the mix-up, struck a match and lighted the lantern. The light revealed Grant clutching Crane and struggling to hold him, while Stone had a grip on Springer. The latter was protesting.
“Let up!” he entreated. “I’m not dud-doing anything; it was Sile. He gave a yell right in my ear that near sus-split the drum, and then he straddled me and began shutting my wind off.”
Crane seemed a bit dazed. “I’m all right naow,” he protested in evident shame. “I guess I was dreaming. Confaound them things on Spirit Island, anyhaow!”
Piper leered at his late angling companion. “You’re a brave one!” he scoffed. “You wanted to land on the island, didn’t you? You wasn’t a bit afraid, were you?”
“Shut up,” growled Crane. “Put that lantern aout, and we’ll go to sleep.”
“Oh, yes, we’ll have a nice time going to sleep, with you cutting up. I was just snoozing beautifully when you yelled like a wild Indian.”