"Say, some of you boys are out pretty late nights," observed Ike Rasmer, as he resumed his painting, and while Roger was adjusting the new oarlock to the gunwale of the Hall boat.
"Out late?" queried Phil.
"Yes, mighty late."
"I haven't been out for a month."
"Nor I," added Dave and Roger.
"I see that young Hamilton not long ago—the fellow that tells stories whenever he can get the chance. And I saw Gus Plum, too."
"Together?" asked Dave, with sudden interest.
"Oh, no. But they were out the same night."
"Late?"
"I should say so—after twelve o'clock."
"What were they doing, Ike?" asked Phil.
"Rowing along the river. Each had a small boat—I guess one from the school. It was bright moonlight, and I saw them quite plainly when they passed Robbin's Point, where I was fishing."
"And each was alone?"
"Yes. Hamilton was right ahead of Plum, and both rowing along at good speed, too. I thought it was mighty strange, and made up my mind I'd ask you boys about it. But, say, I don't want you to get them into trouble," added the old boatman, suddenly. "They are both customers of mine, sometimes."
"I shan't say anything," answered Roger. "But
