an awkward hitch to his trousers.

"I reckon you'd better not do any more sleepin' here," he said uneasily.
"Bug pulled me aside, and said I should tell you-uns to light out afore
daybreak, 'cause the other fellar will surely come back an' lay fur the
chap what shot him. I dunno where Bug picked him up, or who he is. He
looks like a tramp, with his dirty beard and wicked eyes. H's a mighty
bad man when he gits riled, Bug says. It's a pity that chap shot him,
'cause they were both running away."

"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.

There was no open complaint, however, and for ten or fifteen minutes the
silence of the night was disturbed only by the low swish of the paddles,
as the four canoes moved abreast down midstream.

"T