“I don’t suppose I can,” replied Chub, musingly, “but—well, it won’t do any harm to have a look around.”
“Let me go with you,” said Roy, eagerly. But Chub shook his head.
“No, I’ll go alone. I want to look around the camp a bit, and they won’t think much of it if I stumble in there alone.”
“Don’t think they’ll act badly, do you?” asked Roy, uneasily.
“No; why should they? They won’t know what I’m up to. Maybe they won’t see me. We’d better not let Harry know anything about it, though, because she still thinks she may have dreamed that chap at her window. If she knows it really was a man, she’ll be scared to death all the rest of the time we’re here.”
“I don’t see what we want to stay here for, anyhow,” said Roy, disgustedly. “The fishing’s absolutely no good.”
“Well, I think we’ll move on to-morrow. It would have saved us money if we’d gone before. There’s the doctor coming back. I’ll tell him about it now, so Harry won’t know.”
“Too bad, too bad!” said the doctor, when Chub had told his story. “But I wouldn’t let it worry me much. As for the money, why, we can fix that up easily enough among ourselves. I don’t believe I’d run any risks, Chub, by poking my head into that Gipsy camp. They’re an evil-looking lot. I came by there this morning again after I’d caught these.” He looked down ruefully at the string of five small trout which he carried.
“I don’t think there’s any danger, sir,” answered Chub. “Don’t worry; I’ll be back long before supper-time.”
But Chub was mistaken there.