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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Sunk their own boat!" remarked Smithy, in bewilderment; "now, please explain to me just why they would want to do so remarkable a thing as that, Thad?" "So that we couldn't have the use of it to get back ashore again; and our comrades over there mightn't be able to come over," was the reply of the young scout-master.
"To think," added Thad, assuming a lofty air of superior knowledge, "of a fellow attending Scranton High believing the ridiculous yarns these uneducated tillers of the soil and their hired help pass around, about there being some sort of a genuine ghost haunting the old quarry -why, it's positively silly of you, Julius, and I don't mind telling you so to your face."
"From the way you talk, Thad, I should say it might have been Paul Kramer's Emporium that had suffered; because he's really the only man in Scranton who keeps sporting goods." "A good guess, Hugh, because Paul is the chap. They got in through a back door, and everybody says it was a pretty slick job, too," Thad went on to say. "Let's see what you're telling me," Hugh remarked thoughtfully.
Say, she's behaving herself some, eh, pard," laughed Thad, his face all wreathed in genial smiles again. "She's all right, and a credit to you. A little cool and inclined to be draughty on a windy night, but taken all in all a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Here's to her may it be many a moon before she's broken up into hindling wood." So they joked and chatted as the day wore along.
"It's something to do with this same wigwagging, Thad, I'm sure of that?" he remarked, drawing a big breath in his new excitement. "Well, there's no use wasting any more time in beating around the bush, so I'll tell you right now what the idea is," Thad continued, smiling at the eagerness of his comrade.
"Well, anyhow, if that boat did have to be captured by the enemy," remarked Smithy, just then, as if remembering something; "I'm glad I found that stuff before it went, that's a fact, boys." Thad turned on him in some surprise. "Now you've got us both wondering what you mean, Smithy," he remarked; "suppose you explain before Davy leaves us." "Oh!
Davy was urging it from the shore of the island as well as he could by swimming, and without showing any part of his person. "He's going to make that point, all right," said Thad, knowing that the Jones boy's one fear had been lest he ground on the bar that put out there, and be compelled to show himself in order to push off again.
"Come on, and fetch that bugle with you, Davy," said Thad; "we might need it again later, you know. I wonder, now, what the poachers will think when they hear a bugle sound? If they don't know anything about the Scouts, they'll think more than ever that we belong to the Canadian militia."
He shook his finger in the boy's face again threateningly, gave me a sneering look, and then stalked along down the street whistling like anything. And, Thad, the boy who could do a thing like that off-hand can't be quite all bad, though people oughtn't to be blamed for thinking he is. So-long, Thad!"
Thad laughed then, a little skeptically still, it must be confessed. "Oh! that sounds all very fine, in a story, Hugh, but it'd never work out in real life. According to my mind that Nick Lang will go along to the end of the book as a bad egg. He'll fetch up in the penitentiary, or reform school, some of these fine days.
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