there where my oar is, and tried to straighten the bushes up with a pole or something."
"That's so," said Mr. Swan, to his employer, "Didn't I tell you that he was a sharp one? The tricks that that fellow don't know ain't worth knowing."
Just then a twig snapped on the bank and Joe Wayring came into view. "Don't talk so loud," he whispered, as he held up his finger warningly. "Matt's scow isn't twenty feet from here, and that's all the proof I want that his camp is close at land."
Instantly seven pairs of oars were dropped into the water, and as many boats were forced through the bushes and into the little bay on the other side. There lay the piratical craft which had done her best to send the skiff to the bottom of the pond, but nothing was to be seen or heard of her crew.
"Keep still, every body," cautioned Mr. Swan, in the lowest possible whisper. "They're out there in the woods, but remember that they ain't caught yet, and that they won't be if their ears tell them that we're coming."
Joe afterward said that the trail that led
