being forestalled by the outdoor chums in the race for the hemlock camp.
Andy said nothing, but the manner in which he put his fingers on his lips as he turned his head, was indicative of silence.
He led them forward in such a way that the cabin stood between them and the spot where several boys seemed to have clustered, interested in something.
When they looked around the corner of the hut they counted five in the bunch. It was Pet Peters, a tall, raw-boned lad, who was swinging the camera to and fro in triumph, while he held up the waterproof package in which Will kept the rolls of films that had been exposed, awaiting the time when he could develop the same.
"Say, but won't them sissies be hoppin' mad w'en they sees it gone?" he was saying, with a grin; "an' we can keep it as long as we wanter."
"What's he got in the black bag, Pet?" demanded one of the others.
"Don't know, but we'll soon find out," grunted the leader of the group, looking around for a place to lay the camera down while he applied himself to the task of opening the tied-up package.
"I bet it's films he's used; I know, because I got a bull's-eye camera to home," exclaimed another chap, pressing forward eagerly.
