Tom laughed.
“I hit one of the rascals, Dick,” he chuckled. “I'll warrant you he did not think it was a dream.”
“Likely no,” with an answering chuckle. “Well, let's move.”
They set out down the slope, moving at a fair pace, pausing occasionally to listen. All was quiet, however. The redcoat pickets had evidently retreated to the British encampment.
When Dick and Tom emerged from the timber, at the foot of the slope, they were able to go at a faster pace, and they set out in the direction in which they believed the enemy's camp to be. They walked onward about half an hour, and then came upon a little clump of trees. Feeling certain that they must be in the vicinity of the British encampment, they went in among the trees and stopped.
“Wait here a few minutes, Tom” said Dick. “I'm going to climb a tree and see if I can see the campfires of the enemy.”
“All right.”
Dick climbed a tree on the south side of the clump, and looked toward the south. He was rewarded by seeing the twinkling lights of the campfires, seemingly at no very great distance.
“There is the encampment, sure enough,” he murmured. “Well, now, the question is, How am I to get into the camp and secure information regarding the plans of the British?”
This was a poser. It certainly seemed like a hopeless task, but Dick Dare was not a youth to be easily discouraged. He had come here to spy on the British and learn their plans, and he would do so, if such a thing were possible.