CHAPTER VII
A FLORIDA SHERIFF
There was an upheaval of various blankets, three faces peeped forth, and then came a wild scramble for weapons.
"Wow! What is it, Frank!" bellowed Bluff.
"My camera! Who took it away from where I placed it?"
"Talk to me about that, will you! That fellow will howl after his blooming box when he goes to cross the Styx after he dies," grunted Jerry.
Frank had paid no attention to his comrades. His eyes were glued upon the shadowy spot where he felt positive he had seen some creeping figure drawing closer to the boat, inch by inch.
They heard him laugh aloud, as though something he had seen amused him.
"Was it a thief? And did you shoot him?" asked Will, appalled.
"A thief, all right; but I didn't shoot the beggar. Wish I had, now," responded the watch, with regret in his voice.