“Why not go ashore?” asked Fred, eagerly.
Redfern glanced at the others, and they nodded.
“A great idea,” said Bob; “though it isn’t a very good night.”
“We can get flying glimpses between the flying clouds,” grinned Tom. “Come ahead.”
The “Gray Gull” was headed for shore. Jack Lyons took her in as far as he dared; then the anchor was put over, and the house-boat came to a rest for the night. The Palisades, dim and mysterious, loomed high above them. From the shore came the musical sighing of the trees, and faint rustlings, as the underbrush was swayed by the gentle breeze. To the boys, it sounded very much like footsteps going and coming; and more than one felt rather creepy sensations steal through him.
Jack, Norman Redfern and Joe Preston jumped into the dory and pulled away, with the other boat in tow.
“Isn’t it dark?” observed Norman.
“Kind o’ spooky,” said Joe.
“And awful gloomy,” chimed in Jack.
Jack landed his passengers; then returned for the others. As they walked along, the flashing rays of their lantern flitted over the shore in a strangely fantastic manner, now and then dimmed by a flood of pale moonlight.