Lou was lighting his lantern. "I'm glad you picked out Mr. Goodwin to warn," he laughed.
They were alongside of Echo Lake now. "If I wasn't so sleepy, I'd like to go down there and make an echo now, in the night," said Lou. "It would be kind of wild and unearthly."
"Yes, and easy to do, seeing's we have no bugle and no boat," said Frank. "Me for bed."
They now turned in from the road, and followed the path, each one counting his steps. But, as the path was down-hill, and they had counted first when going up-hill, everybody was still many paces shy when Lou, who was leading with the lantern, suddenly spied the handkerchief, still tied to a bush. They turned into the underbrush, and after considerable stumbling in the dark, amid the undergrowth and the gigantic hemlock trunks, the lantern light fell on a shimmer of white—one of the shirts hung up to dry—and they found their camp. It wasn't five minutes later when the camp was once more dark and silent.
