"Can't help it—we don't own—"
"Let's light some pine-knots and see what it is," cried Bob. "After our experience with the 'Rambler,' we don't want to take any chances. I say, Nat—"
"He's asleep. Don't waste any time," urged Kirk, excitedly. "Come on, get up, John 'Hatchet.'"
"What's the matter—what's all this? Of course I won—and by fifteen feet, too."
Several pine-knots were lying around. Bob and Kirk each eagerly seized a stick and held it over the fire. As flames began to hiss and sizzle from the end of his torch, Kirk leaped forward and picked up the megaphone.
A series of blood-curdling whoops instantly brought the campers to their feet in alarm. They tumbled over each other, half frightened out of their senses.
"Somebody fooling around the 'Nimrod'!" yelled Kirk, throwing the tube to the ground. "Quick, grab your guns, and come with us."
The two boys dashed pell-mell down the hill. The light of the blazing pine-knots, raised high above their heads, flitted from tree to tree, danced and wavered on the ground, fantastic shadows lengthened and shortened, while the torches sizzled and flared, as the boys rushed on.
"It may be nothing," panted Kirk.
"Better be on the safe side," cried Bob. "That boat must be close to the 'Nimrod,' or I miss my guess. The rest of the fellows are coming."