“Them’s the fellers,” said Dave Higgins, decisively. “We’ve been on the wrong trail all evening, Hank. The only thing we can do now is wait till to-morrow and try and locate ’em by telephone in some of the neighborin’ towns. I’m sorry to have troubled you boys this way,” he added, turning to the young canoeists.
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Chot. “Your mistake was a perfectly natural one.”
Now that Dave Higgins seemed disposed to do the right thing, the boys felt no animosity toward him for the summary fashion in which he and his friend, Hank, had held them up.
“Well, Hank and I’ll leave you now,” said Higgins, “and mind you, we’ll look for you over to the house for breakfast. Will you come?”
Chot looked inquiringly at the other boys.
“Any wheat cakes and maple syrup?” asked Fleet, his mouth watering.
“Bushels of ’em,” was Dave Higgins’ reply.
“Then count me in.”
“I think you may look for all of us, Mr. Higgins,” said Chot, “and thank you.”
“Oh, that’s all right, boys. Good night.”