The motors had ceased going by now, and the road was empty. They very soon came to a good brook, and a few paces off the road put them into the seclusion of the woods. Here they camped, and had their supper. The day had been a comparatively light one--four miles down Moosilauke, six through Lost River and to North Woodstock, and six to camp--sixteen in all, mostly down-hill. “And don’t forget the two miles at lunch to the store and back for our packs,” said Frank. “An even eighteen, then,” said Rob. “Gee, that’s not very good.” “Women--they’re to blame for everything, ain’t they, Art?” said Peanut. Art got up and made for his tormentor, but Peanut was too quick for him. He was away into the rough, dark woods, and Art gave up the chase. It wasn’t long after, however, in spite of the fact that they had walked only eighteen miles, when the camp was asleep. CHAPTER VI A STRANGE ADVENTURE IN THE NIGHT It seemed to Peanut that he had hardly been asleep at all, when he was awakened by the sound of a motor. He listened, cross at being roused, for the noise to die away up or down the road, but it didn’t. Instead of that, he plainly heard the power shut off and the engine come to rest, close to the camp--right in the road opposite the camp, in fact. He sat up, rather startled. Then he heard voices, men’s voices. They were talking in low tones, which struck him as strange, because out here in the woods there was no reason why they should be afraid of waking people up. He wondered for a second if they could have designs on the camp, but glancing at the camp-fire, he saw that it had gone entirely out, so that nobody could have seen the camp from the road. As he sat there in the dark, straining his ears, Art woke up, as you often will when you are sleeping close to somebody else who has waked. “What is it?” Art said. “Sh!” cautioned Peanut. He whispered softly what had roused him. “Let’s do some scouting,” said Art. They put on their shoes quietly, without waking any of the others. Art tried to see his watch, but couldn’t. “Never mind,” he whispered, and the two boys crawled softly out of camp. It was easy to get across the brook, because the brook itself made so much babbling over its stones that the sound of footsteps could not be heard. Once across, they were close to the road, in some bushes about three feet lower than the road level. They could see little, in the starlight, but they could make out the shadowy form of a motor, and two men sitting in it. The head lights and the red tail light were all shut off! “That’s funny,” Art whispered. “Gee, it’s against the law, too.” The boys listened. The men were talking in low tones. Their voices were rough, and they swore about every second word.