“Mind the camp! Get the guns secure! This may be a clever trick to draw attention away from the tents! I’ll take care of the thief, fellows!”
Frank’s voice boomed over the lake. Already he was sending his paddle deep into the water, and urging his frail craft onward with constantly increasing speed.
“He’s right. We must guard the camp! This way, Will—pick up Frank’s gun, and keep watch. We can have one eye on the lake and the other here!” called Bluff, who was quick to catch on to a thing once he heard it.
So they stood there on the border, each making quick turns of the head in order to see all that went on.
If any thief entered that camp just then, calculating on having a clear field for his operations, he was likely to soon regret his temerity, for the boys were tremendously aroused, and Bluff had an impetuous nature.
Meanwhile Frank was pushing onward with furious zeal.
He could see that he was gaining with every stroke. The occupant of the other canoe seemed to be paddling desperately, but he evidently did not know just how to get the best results from his labor. His craft wobbled considerably; that is, it headed from one side to the other.
As a result Frank was rapidly overcoming the distance that had in the start separated him from the unknown.
He anticipated that at the last the other would try and turn to the shore with the idea of making a hurried landing. In order to cut him off from such safety Frank kept in-shore, where he could interpose should the enemy try that game.
“I’ve got him!” was what he was saying to himself, over and over.