“My fault,” said the skipper. “I’m learning. My first business is to bring us safe up to the dock.”
“And my first business,” added David, “is to get something to eat. Mysteries may come and go, but three square meals a day are always needful. How about that, Ben, my son? What did Sir Peter and this other friend of yours live on?”
“Rum,” said the solemn Ben.
“Rum! You’re a rum one! Are you sure you didn’t drink some of Sir Peter’s rum before you went to the creek and found that the footprints were missing?”
But Ben only smiled. He could afford to smile when he knew that he, and he alone, had a copy of James Sampson’s complete message tucked away in his pocket.
VII—THE TIGERS PLAY CAMP AMOUSSOCK
Needless to say, Ben would have liked to start out immediately after dinner to look for the pocket in the rocks that was marked with a cross, provided he could have found a good excuse to get away from the others; for he was still of a mind to keep his discovery a secret for the present. But the larder was in need of fresh supplies, and as soon as they had finished their cleaning up Tom announced that their immediate business was to sail across to Farmer Hapgood’s and buy some eggs and milk. So the Argo put out into the bay again, and soon the four campers, the sailboat safely moored at the Hapgood landing, were tramping up the road toward a gray-shingled cottage that had a couple of beautiful, tall elms at either side of it.
Mrs. Hapgood sold them eggs, milk, and butter, and some large loaves of freshly-baked bread. These were packed in a basket the boys had brought. When they came out from the house they stopped a few moments to chat with Mrs. Hapgood, and while they were talking two large automobiles swung in from a crossroad and raced past the farmhouse door.
The two cars were filled with boys, boys on the seats and on the running-boards. “They’re from Camp Amoussock, down along the shore a way,” Mrs. Hapgood explained. “They’re going to have a baseball game with the boys around here. My Sandy’s playing. He’s getting into his things upstairs now, but he’ll be down in a minute.”
The cars disappeared in a cloud of dust, and almost immediately a red-haired, freckle-faced young fellow, in a baseball suit, dashed out from the front door.