Sam thought this over. “Well, I hope there’ll be no slip in your figures this time,” he said soberly.
“Huh! There won’t be,” quoth the Shark calmly. “I’ll know just where I’m at before I say a word.” And with that he resumed his attention to the sheets of mysterious diagrams and computations, which he had brought with him to the camp.
It was a week-end stay the club was making at the lake. All the members were there, but when the Shark returned to his labors in the tent, Sam for the moment found himself alone. Herman was fishing somewhere along the shore, Poke and Step were fully occupied with the flying machine, Tom Orkney had led the somewhat reluctant Trojan aside, and was coaching him on a Latin lesson. Sam strolled over to the big Council Rock and perched himself on one of its ledges. There he was half-meditating, half-dozing, when Herman came into sight, hurrying along at a great pace. Instantly he hailed Sam:
“Say, I’ve found something—got a tip of trouble! Call the crowd together, and I’ll tell you.”
Sam shouted lustily. Step and Poke were out of hearing, and the Shark kept at his task, but Orkney and the Trojan came readily enough. They ranged themselves beside Sam, and awaited Herman’s tidings.
“Well, it was this way,” he explained. “I was fooling along, not catching anything and not caring much whether I got a nibble or not. And, all of a sudden, that young Hagle came out of the bushes, and tiptoed up, as if he were afraid of his life. I don’t like him. So I was pulling in my line and getting ready to quit, when he began to stammer out something about my waiting to hear some important news. I asked him what it was, and he stammered worse than ever, and kept turning and peering around, as if he thought a bear was about to jump out at us. It wasn’t easy to make head or tail of what he said; but finally I caught his drift. It was about the ownership of the land we’re on. Well, it seems it’s part of the tract Zorn’s father bought, and Ed’s stirring up his father to have us fired as trespassers.”
Tom Orkney whistled; Sam’s expression grew anxious.
“I wonder if his father will do it,” said the Trojan.
“I asked about that,” Herman went on. “Hagle thought he might put us off. It wouldn’t be so much because we were we—because it was our crowd, you know—as because the syndicate wouldn’t want to have anybody on the land. And there’s always the chance of campers starting a fire, especially when things are as dry as they are now.”
The boys nodded agreement. “Fire surely would run through the brush like a racer,” quoth Orkney.