"I know that," replied Ned, "and I'm awfully sorry it happened. It was a mean, contemptible trick under the circumstances. But what had we better do now?"
"Well, I reckon it would be better to pack up and start," advised Batters. "You see Bug and the other fellar have a camp about two mile down the creek. You can slide right past it in the darkness, and if you keep on fur a good ways the fellar what was shot won't find you again. Bug tole me they didn't intend to go much further down the creek. You needn't be afraid to travel by night, 'cause there ain't any bad water near here, an' the first dam is twelve mile away."
Ned was inclined to act promptly on Batters' suggestions, and It goes without saying that the others were of the same mind—especially Randy, who had conceived a mortal fear of Bug's companion.
It was between one and two o'clock when the boys began the work of breaking camp, and as Batters and Joe rendered useful assistance, the heavily laden canoes were in the water half an hour later. The start was made in darkness and silence. Ned thanked Batters for the important service he had rendered that night, and added a few words of comfort and sympathy.
Hands were shaken all around, and hopes expressed of meeting again. Then the Jolly Rovers paddled noiselessly away in the gloom, and Batters and Joe went up the beach to their shelter of pine boughs.
CHAPTER VIII
HOW THE DAY DAWNED
It was with no pleasant sensations that the boys found themselves for the second time adrift in the darkness. Not that they had any fears of the journey that lay before them; that was a trifling matter compared to the loss of sleep and the indignity of being routed out of their snug beds through no fault of their own.