Part 23 (2/2)
”Well, we found out who it was,” remarked Ned, ”and that's something.”
”It would be more to find out why he was following us,” came from Frank.
”Maybe he's camping around here,” suggested Bart.
”If he is, he was quite a way from camp,” put in Ned. ”I'd been hearing soft paddling behind us for the last two miles and I determined to see who it was.”
”Guess he didn't want to be seen, by the way he disappeared in such a hurry,” Fenn remarked.
”We'll have to keep watch to-night,” said Bart. ”We don't want Sandy or any of his friends sneaking around.”
”That's right,” a.s.sented Ned.
They lighted the lantern and, by the gleam of it, and by that from a fire they kindled on sh.o.r.e, they made their camp. A hasty meal was prepared and then the shelter tent was put up. A big pile of brushwood was collected for the fire and, dividing the night into four watches, of which Bart took the first, they spread out the blankets and the other three prepared to sleep.
But the weather, which had favored them all their trip, turned against them now. It began to rain about ten o'clock and from then, until morning, there was a steady downpour.
However they made the best of it, though the tent did leak, and the fire refused to do anything more than smoulder. It was rather a cheerless breakfast they had, for the coffee was only lukewarm and the bacon half done. But they made jokes about it and soon were on their way down the river.
”Guess it was too wet for Sandy,” observed Bart, as he tilted his hat so the rain would not drip down his neck.
They left the canoe at Riverton and made the best time possible to Darewell. Wet through, but happy in spite of it all they reached their homes, fully satisfied with their trip.
The next morning as Fenn was taking a short cut across lots to get to Frank's house, he heard a noise as though two birds were calling to one another in a little clump of bushes. The notes came clear and sweet and Fenn paused to catch a sight of the songsters. As he did so something in the bushes moved, a robin flew out and John Newton came into view. As he did so Fenn realized that John was one of the ”birds.”
”What were you doing?” asked Fenn, who was once more on friendly, if not intimate terms with John.
”Practicing that robin call.”
”What for?”
”I'm learning to imitate all kinds of birds,” replied John.
”Thought you were working as special delivery messenger at the postoffice?”
”I was but I gave it up. Too much inside. I want to get out where I can hear the birds. I can imitate twenty different kinds now.”
”What good is it?”
”Maybe I can get a job on the stage some day, and it will come in handy.
I heard a fellow in a theater orchestra try to imitate a bird once, and it wasn't anything as good as I can do.”
”If you get on the stage I'll come and see you,” said Fenn, little thinking that his promise was some day to come true.
”Thanks,” replied John, as he walked off across the field, looking for more birds to practice with, while Fenn went on to Frank's house.
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