“Now, don’t begin that, Matty,” said Harry. “You’ve been so good up to now.”
“Who goes next?” Red Deer asked.
“Goodman Walden, Goodman Morrel—”
“Better send Morrel with the last load, Kid,” said Harry. “He’ll be sure to talk when he gets over.”
“Don’t call me Kid! Is that what you call respect for your leader?”
There was no need for hurry, for they did not wish to land the last boat-load until dawn and they preferred to make a number of trips rather than crowd the canoe. “For,” as Gordon said, quoting Mr. Wade, “this thing must be going on right under his very nose all night.”
So they went over in small lots and did the whole job in eight trips, having met with no mishap and made no sound which could possibly have been heard within the fort. The day was just breaking. The two gagged sentinels, faithfully silent, came down to the shore and stood meekly watching the group.
“Hello, Kid Lord,” ventured Frankie, in a cautious whisper.
Gordon gave him a scathing look. “Follow, my brave fellows,” said he.
“Did you hear that?” said Brick Parks.