"It's so dark a fellow can't see," chimed in Ted Pollock. "Wish the old moon would hurry up."
"Let's take a rest, and wait for the lazy thing to appear," suggested Nat. "Those vines have scratched me all up."
Accordingly the thoroughly tired boys came to a halt and sat down on a little mossy bank.
"That 'Oh ho' boy would be shaking in his shoes by this time, if he wasn't so lazy," declared Nat, with a laugh. "He'll have a grand chance to scribble a poem on the Terror of Darkness."
It seemed a very long time before the sky began to brighten with the rising moon. By its light they were again enabled to make good progress.
After skirting around the shore of the lake, they came across familiar landmarks and marched ahead in high spirits, notwithstanding their tired condition.
This part of the journey seemed much longer than they anticipated, but, at length, a glad shout came from Sam Randall. "We are all right, now, boys!" he exclaimed, gleefully. "There's the river."
Leading the way, Bob plunged through the last strip of woods. "Hello—hello, Dave!" he called, with all the force of his lungs.
"Hello!" echoed his companions, lustily.
No sound came from the direction of the camp.