"And if the ghost should appear again, make him stand for his picture—hear!"
"Don't you worry, Jerry. My watch only extends to midnight, and then Frank comes on deck, you see."
"Wise boy, to fix it so," jeered the other as he crawled inside his tent.
Presently the camp was wrapped in silence. The fire had been so arranged that it needed very little attention from time to time. Will sat there, with the gun on one side, and his camera, ready for action, on the other. It was a question as to which he would seize upon in case of a sudden emergency; but the chances favored the snapshot arrangement, for Will would rather secure a good picture than eat the best dinner ever cooked, or shoot a prize buck.
But nothing happened, just as he had prophesied. At midnight, as he had agreed, he crept over and aroused Frank. A touch on the arm was sufficient, for the Maine boy was a light sleeper.
"All right, Will. Coming," he said in a whisper, not wishing to awaken Jerry; but from the sound of his heavy breathing it would require a cannon to do that.
Frank assumed the position vacated by his chum, but he noticed that Will carried his camera, ready for instantaneous work, into the other tent with him. Like a good soldier, Will doubtless believed in sleeping on his arms, so as to be able to get to work at the call of duty.
Frank wondered whether anything would happen to bring about an alarm. He settled himself down to watch with the determination to use his eyes to some advantage if that ghost happened around again.
What he had heard only whetted his curiosity, and he wished greatly to see for himself. So as the minutes glided along he remained wide-awake, and waiting for he hardly knew what.
Perhaps those Peters fellows might come around, bent upon playing one of their miserable practical jokes. He rather suspected, however, that by this time they might have concluded that they had had enough, and were headed back to town.