"Couldn't we paddle the other up there?" asked Lester, feeling of the
chain with which the sail-boat was fastened to the wharf, to make
sure that it was not locked.
"O, yes; but why is this canoe locked up? That's what bothers me.
Perhaps Don suspects something and is on the watch."
"Who cares if he is?" exclaimed Lester. "I've come too far to back
out now. I wouldn't do it if Don and all his friends stood in my
way."
"All right. If you are not afraid, I am not. Be careful when you cast
off that chain. You know that sound travels a long way on a still
night like this."
Lester was careful, and the boat was pushed off and got under way so
noiselessly that a person standing on the bank would not have known
that there was anything going on. Bob, who knew just where the
shooting-box was located, sat in the stern and did the steering, at
the same time assisting Lester in paddling. The heavy boat moved
easily through the water, and before another half hour had passed
they were at their journey's end.
"Hold up now," whispered Bob, "and let's make sure that everything
is all right before we touch the shore."
Lester drew in his paddle and listened. He heard a whistling in the
air, as a solitary duck flew swiftly up the lake, and that was the
only sound that broke the stillness.
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