Some of the others, when their turns came, did not respond as readily, and had to be dragged from their cots and stood upright before they were thoroughly awake.
It was shortly after one o'clock in the morning when Tom Reade, then on watch, stepped lightly into the tent, passing through the round of the cots, shaking each sleeper in turn.
"Those of you who want to listen to something interesting, get up instantly!" Tom exclaimed in a low voice.
Three boys drowsily rolled over, going immediately back into sound slumber.

Dick and Dave, however, got up, pulling on their shoes.
"What's all that racket across the lake ?" was Dick's prompt question as he stood in the doorway of the tent.
"That comes from the former camp site," chuckled Tom.
"Guns!" cried Dave Darrin in amazement.
"It sounds like a big fusillade," Dick cried, as he stepped out into the night.
"But surely no one can be trying to attack our camp, thinking we are still there," Tom protested.

"We don't know any people who are wicked enough to plan an attack upon our camp." "No," Dick agreed.

"But this much is sure.

There are those who dislike us enough to try to spoil our rest night after night." Dave began to laugh merrily.
"I half believe it's Dodge and Bayliss," he remarked quietly.
"I don't," Reade objected.