"Great! I can shoot a Kodak like anything. Then it's all settled that we go together?"
"Suppose there isn't any war?" Merry persisted in throwing cold water upon their plans.
Both boys looked gloomily at each other. Then Billy had an inspiration.
"If there isn't," he declared with decision, "then Phil and I will dash over there and stir one up. We could make faces at them or do something and get one started. That's the idea, isn't it, Phil?"
"You make me tired!" Philip retorted. "This is too serious a matter to joke about."
As the older boy moved away disgustedly Billy again whispered to Merry. "Phil is just as bad as you," he said disconsolately. "He doesn't know seriousness when he sees it. Come on! Take a chance and be a sport!"
The boy's persistency was the only jarring note in the whole experience, and the extent of that was too limited to produce lasting effect. The picnickers watched the sun set and the moon rise, then, filled with the calm delights which Nature so generously shared with them, and over-satiated with the creature comforts supplied by their hostess, they re-embarked in the launch and returned to Sagamore Hall. To their surprise, as they walked across the great lawn to the house, they saw some one coming down to meet them.
"Mr. Huntington has returned!" Marian cried, and she hastened toward him in advance of the others.
"Why, Harry!" she exclaimed surprised to discover that it was her husband. "How did you manage to get back to-night? I'm so glad to see you!"
Cosden hurried forward, sensing important revelations in Thatcher's return. The new-comer grasped his hand cordially, and his face even in the moonlight showed a relief from the long strain.