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.
"Who was it tumbled into the old mine shaft?" asked Pet, as he dug at
the knot with which the cord was fastened.
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