"I never knew such a chap as you for getting ideas into your head,"
said Robin. "Mysterious! Why? you've got mysteries on the brain,
it seems to me!"
"Be prepared!" quoted Peter with twinkling eyes.
"Oh, all serene; but 'be prepared' for to-night too, if you've no
objection," the old campaigner spoke dryly. "You don't exactly want
to get a chill before morning, do you, and be compelled to sleep at
the Cottage till the end of the camp?"
This idea struck Peter as sound; he fell to, therefore, with a will.
Jan came along, too, having first set one of the boys' dixies on the
now blazing camp-fire. "Suppose you'll want your supper after this,
won't you?" she asked.
"Rather, I should say so," but the two boys were too busy to talk
much. Already the night shelter was beginning to look quite
professional. One of the scout-staves was laid against and bound to
the trunk of a straight young tree; the framework thus formed was
thatched very closely with leafy boughs and bracken, and the whole
bivouac was complete.
"It's simply perfect," remarked Jan, surveying the results of their
labours with glowing eyes.
"And perfectly simple," added Peter; but Robin, as Captain of the
campers, was anxious to set them both to work again as soon as
possible.
"We've got the temporary shelter pitched all right," he said, "with
its back away from the wind; but we'll want a trench dug all round
it. Suppose there's heavy rain in the night, and we get flooded out!
Not that I think there will be, but we'll be prepared."
"Now I see why you would have the camp on a slope, old chap," said
Peter, coming up. "The trench will carry the water straight down to
the river. Jolly neat idea."
The digging of the small ditch took the rest of the boys' energies;
about three inches deep they made it. Meanwhile Jan installed
herself as camp-cook, and began preparations for the first meal of
all. After a flying visit to Island Cottage she returned with a
saucepan, a jug of milk, and a loaf of bread, as well as three
new-laid eggs. The milk was boiled in the saucepan, and the eggs
were cooked in the dixie of hot water. Jan was trying her best to
make three slices of rather smoky toast, and burning her cheeks badly
in the endeavour, when the boys--their labours over for a
time--approached the camp-fire.
Suppers are nearly always welcome; but this particular supper was
voted the rippingest on record. And, afterwards, as the day slowly
faded to dusk, the three sat in the firelight saying very little but
enjoying, every one of them, the magic of the late summer evening in
their own particular way. The spell was broken at last by a little
shiver from Jan, and Robin jumped up. "Here, it's time we fetched a
rug or two, Peter, from the Cottage. And, Jan, Brownie will have
your room ready by this time. We will take you home, and then we'll
turn in ourselves."
Mrs. Brown was on the look-out for the three. "I've got Miss Jan's
room ready," she announced, "but I suppose you young gentlemen are
sleeping out? What with the lumber in that attic, my dears, I've
not----!"
"It's all right, Brownie, we've just come for blankets," the boys
assured her. "We'll help to turn out the attic ourselves on the
first wet day. Don't worry about that, and thank you for the milk
and eggs and things; they made a ripping supper, and they'll make a
ripping breakfast too. But from then we'll be self-supporting. We
can row over to the other side of the river for what things we need,
and we'll be about, you know, if you want any odd jobs done." The
boys, armed with a rug apiece, shouted a cheery good-night and were
off again campwards, while Jan followed her hostess into the bedroom
that had been prepared for her.
She went to the window when she was ready for bed and looked out; at
first it seemed quite dark outside, but the moon was shining on the
river between the Island and the Chase garden, and a bridge of
moonlight seemed to span the water. Suddenly another light appeared
too, a steady light from one of the windows of the Chase. "It's
Mother, I expect," thought Jan sleepily. "She's lighted it for us to
see. I wonder if the boys see it too. And I wonder if Mother----"
she jumped into bed and curled herself up in the big old-fashioned
feather mattress, and was asleep in a twinkling.
The boys were fast asleep already too. It hadn't taken long to cover
the fire with ashes, and to collect a few logs in case a midnight
stoking was required. Then they rolled themselves in their rugs and
turned over, their feet towards the fire. Hours and hours seemed to
have passed when Robin was suddenly awakened. "I say, old chap,"
said Peter's voice.
"What's wrong?" asked Robin sleepily; it was quite dark--for the moon
had set early--perhaps the darkest part of the summer night.
"Don't you hear rather a peculiar noise?" inquired Peter.
"No! What sort?" Robin raised himself on his elbow to listen.
"A sort of thumping." Peter sat up too. "No, it's gone again. But
it was quite loud--it woke me, and I thought----"
"You've been dreaming, old chap," said Robin sleepily; "it's nothing
at all." He closed his eyes as he spoke and drew a deep breath, and
after a minute or two his younger brother followed his example.
"Suppose it _must_ have been a dream," he muttered as he drifted off,
"but----" There was a snore--Peter, too, was fast asleep.