“You may be right,” Hart said reluctantly, “and if I thought the boys would go on about their business as soon as the boat returns, I’d be in favor of letting them alone, but I don’t believe they will. They’ll just sneak and pry around here until they get us into trouble.”
“Perhaps we’d better put the whole matter up to the others,” suggested Ball, “then, whatever action is taken, we can’t be blamed.”
“Now see here, fellows,” Peck exclaimed, “there are quite a number of reckless fellows in that company over there, and I’m afraid they wouldn’t take into consideration the fact that they are dealing with little boys. Now I’ll tell you what I propose.
“If you think best, I’ll take the boys up to the house and leave them there with the old woman. Then we’ll scatter, and by the time the boys get back with their friends, the country will be as peaceful as a stony farm in Massachusetts.”
“That will be all right,” Hart agreed, “provided some of us remain here and take charge of the other boys when they return.”
“Yes, I think that advisable,” Peck admitted. “Now, I’ll tell you what you do, Ball, and perhaps you’d better go with him, Hart—you take these boys over to my place and leave them there with instructions to the old lady to keep them safe and sound until I get back. While you’re gone. I’ll dismiss the company and stay on watch here.”
“That’s a good idea!” Ball declared. “We don’t mean any harm to these boys, but we certainly must keep track of them until they get out of the country. If their friends come back here and seem to be all right, we’ll pack them all off in their own boat, and wish them good luck on their trip down the river. We can’t be too careful, you know.”
The plan mapped out in this conversation was carried out. Case and Jule were marched to the farm house where Clay had taken his breakfast and locked up in a room guarded by the motherly old lady who had been so kind to Clay. Dismayed but not disheartened at the sudden change of fortune, the boys sat down on rude chairs in their not very secure prison and regarded each other with humorous glances.
“And when we wake up,” Jule mocked, “well see the _Rambler_ riding in the cove and Alex cooking a catfish a la Indian at the fire! If I couldn’t get things any straighter than you can, Case, I’d certainly go out of the prophet business! As a forecaster of future events, you’re about as big a frost as the weather department of the United States Government! What does all this mean, anyway?”