And Bluff started off.
When he reached the top of the abrupt rise he did have a splendid view of the lake and the distant shore, but could see little of the island.
“No good for taking pictures, pard. Just you stay down there, and I’ll join you after I’ve looked through my marine glasses a little,” he called down.
Frank had brought along a good pair of glasses belonging to his father; and with these Bluff now scanned the shore line as far as he could see it. He was in hopes of discovering some sign of the two explorers around the point; or possibly locating the camp of the Peters crowd.
The big rowboat he did see on the beach, and there were signs of smoke among the trees close by, so that he decided where the town bully and his followers had taken up their temporary quarters.
“Wonder if they dare attack us in the night?” was what Bluff was saying to himself as he once more commenced to descend the bluff.
His mind went back to their previous experiences with these same boys. The rowdies had tried to burn their camp; they had stolen whatever they could lay hands on, and made themselves disagreeable until the conversion of their leader, at that time Andy Lasher, by Jerry, who had saved his life when he was caught under a fallen tree, had changed the complexion of things.
Under the rule of the new leader, Pet Peters, these fellows would be equal to any deed of misconduct just so far as they dared. The fact that the four chums never went into camp without guns of some sort might make them cautious; but that would be the only thing.
Will bombarded him with questions when he came down.
“Did you see Frank and Jerry?—was the camp of those fellows in sight?—could I get any sort of picture, if I climbed up?” so he went on until Bluff called a halt.