The Rover Boys on the River | Page 8

the way," he went on, with assumed indifference, "they tell me the Rover boys have cleared out and gone home."
"No, they haven't," was Link Smith's prompt answer.--They are right here."
"Are you sure, Link?"
"Of course I am. They are bunking together in the last tent in Street B, over yonder," and the feeble-minded cadet pointed with his hand as he spoke.
"Is that so! Well, I don't care. I don't want to see them again until I can prove to Captain Putnam that they are a set of rascals."
"Are you going to try to get into the academy again, Lew?" asked Link, curiously.
"Not much! I'll be done with Captain Putnam just as soon as I can show him how he mistreated me and how the Rovers are pulling the wool over his eyes."
"Everybody here thinks the Rovers about perfect."
"That's because they don't know them as well as I and Rockley do."
A few words more passed, and then Lew Flapp slipped into the camp lines and made his way between the long rows of tents.
He had gained from Link Smith just the information he desired, namely, the location of the Rover boys' sleeping quarters. He looked back, to make certain that Link was not watching him, and then hurried on to where the Rovers rested, totally unconscious of the proximity of their enemy.
"I'll show them what I can do," muttered Lew Flapp to himself. "I'll make them wish they had never been born!"
At last the tent was reached and with caution he opened the flap and peered inside. All was dark, and with a hand that was none too steady he struck a match and held it up.
Each of the Rover boys lay sleeping peacefully on his cot, with his clothing hung up on one of the tent poles.
"Now for working my little plan," murmured Flapp, and allowed the match to go out. In a second more he was inside the tent, moving around cautiously so as not to disturb the sleepers.
The bully remained in the tent all of ten minutes. Then he came out as cautiously as he had entered, and fairly ran to where Link Smith was still on guard.
"Did you see them?" asked the feeble-minded cadet.
"I did, and it's all right, Link. Now, don't tell anybody I visited the camp."
"Humph! do you think I want to get myself in trouble?"
"Good-night."
"Good-night."
And in a moment more Lew Flapp was out of sight down the country roadway and Link Smith was pacing his post as before.
Bright and early the camp was astir, and at half-past seven o'clock a good hot breakfast was served, the cadets pitching into the food provided with a will.
"And now for Putnam Hall and the grand wind-up," said Tom, as he finished his repast.
"And then to go home and prepare for that grand trip on the houseboat," came from Sam.
"Which puts me in mind that we must see who will go with us," said Dick.
"Songbird Powell says he is more than willing," answered Tom. "And I know Dutchy will fall all over himself to become one of the party."
"I think Fred Garrison will go," said Sam. "He said he would let me know as soon as he heard from his parents."
Captain Putnam had expected to begin the march to the Hall by half-past eight, but there were numerous delays in packing the camping outfit, so the battalion was not ready for the start until over an hour later.
The cadets were just being formed to start the march when several men appeared at the edge of the field.
"There's them young soldiers now!" cried one. Come on and find the rascals!"
"What do you want, gentlemen?" demanded George Strong, who happened to be near the crowd.
"Who is in charge of this school?" asked one of the men.
"Captain Victor Putnam is the owner. I am his head assistant."
"Well, I'm Josiah Cotton, the constable of White Corners."
"What can I do for you, Mr. Cotton?"
"I'm after a feller named Dick Rover, and his two brothers. Are they here?"
"They are. What do you want of them?"
"I'm goin' to lock 'em up if they did what I think they did."
"Lock them up?" cried George Strong, in astonishment.
"That's what I said. Show me the young villains."
"But what do you think they have done?"
"They broke into my shop an' stole some things," put in another of the men.
"That's right, they did," came from a third man. "Don't let 'em give ye the slip, Josiah."
"I ain't a-goin' to let 'em give me the slip," growled the constable from White Corners.
"When was your shop robbed?" demanded George Strong, of the man who had said he was the sufferer.
"I can't say exactly, fer I was to the city, a-buying of more goods."
"Mr. Fairchild is a jeweler and watchmaker, besides dealing in paints, oils, glass, an' wall paper," explained the constable. "He carries