“It’s oar-locks all right,” I said. “Listen—shh. Did you hear a kind of a splash? I’d like to make my voice kind of deep like Councilor Trent and call out and ask what they’re doing here, hey?”
Dub said, “No, don’t. We don’t have to tell on them, do we?”
“Nope,” I said. “That’s one thing Scouts up here are never asked to do. But I’d like to have some fun with them.”
He said, “Shhh—listen.”
“I bet it’s that Hervey Willetts,” I said in a whisper. “If it is, bye-bye, Hervey. There’ll be somebody waiting at the float all right.”
Dub grabbed me by the shoulder so I wouldn’t speak too loud. Then he said, “I don’t see why any one goes out like that if they know there’ll be somebody waiting at the float. The management sure knows if there’s a boat out. Why don’t they lock the boats?”
“They don’t believe in that,” I whispered. “They go by rule one—a Scout’s honor is to be trusted—this time it’s going to be busted. Maybe not, at that. Some scoutmasters up here are sheiks—leave it to them. It’s all right for them to take girls out rowing, yes, yes, yes. I bet it’s that one from Ohio with that girl that’s staying at Sunset Farm. Just for the fun of it I’ll stump you to shout I’m a bear, woof, woof! and then run.”
“No, wait a second,” Dub said. “If it’s a couple of Scouts it’s just as well for us to not know anything about it.”
I said, “I don’t hear any voices, do you?”
All of a sudden there was a sound like something dropping on wood—like something heavy.