The Rival Campers; Or, The Adventures of Henry BurnsSmith, Ruel Perley
General
The Rival Campers; Or, The Adventures of Henry Burns
Smith, Ruel Perley
Boats and boating -- Juvenile fiction; Camping -- Juvenile fiction
It was nearly midnight when the boys came over the hill, and the
half-moon was just sinking out of sight. They strolled down past the
hotel, whistling a college tune in chorus. The hotel stood out, a big,
black, indefinite object in the enveloping darkness, for the lights had
been out for nearly two hours, and the guests were supposed to be all
abed.
“Hulloa!” exclaimed Henry Burns, pointing to a faint gleam that shone
from a basement window. “John Carr has forgotten to put out his lamps in
the billiard-room. Old Witham will give him fits when he finds them
burning in the morning. Wait a moment, and I’ll just slip in through this
window and put them out for him. If the colonel should find them, just as
likely as not he would discharge John for wasting five cents’ worth of
oil.”
So saying, Henry Burns, with the best of intentions, shoved up the sash
and crawled into the billiard-room in the basement.
The boys stood around the window, waiting for him to return, but one and
all thrust their heads into the open window as Henry Burns suddenly gave
a whistle of surprise.
“Say, fellows,” he called, turning the lights up stronger instead of
extinguishing them. “Look what John Carr’s done. He’s left all the balls
and cues out, instead of locking them up. Wouldn’t the colonel be
furious? I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Old Witham always drives us out of
the billiard-room, so we’ll just stop and play one game now and I’ll make
it all right with John Carr. He wouldn’t care, and he will be glad enough
to have things put to rights, so Witham won’t find them out in the
morning.”
George Warren, as the eldest of the brothers, demurred at first. “We’ve
been up to enough pranks this summer,” he said, “and we don’t want to get
into any more trouble.”
“But we’re not going to do any harm,” persisted Henry Burns. “We’ll only
play one game, just for the lark of playing at this time of night, and to
get ahead of old Witham; and then we’ll put everything away shipshape and
put out the lights, and no harm done.”
It did not take much argument to influence them; and in a moment they
were all inside, each equipped with a cue, and engaged in the forbidden
game. The time passed faster than they knew, and one o’clock found them
there still.
But, late as it was, a most unusual hour for any Southport dweller to be
astir and abroad, there were at least three individuals who were not abed
and asleep; and with these three we shall have to do in turn.
It so happened on this morning that Squire Brackett had important
business that took him across to Cape Revere, on the mainland; and, as no
steamer was due to run across till afternoon, and he must be there in the
morning, he had arranged to sail over, taking advantage of the ebb-tide,
which served strongest shortly after midnight. He was sleepy and surly as
he came down the road, but paused a moment in his haste as he caught the
gleam of light and heard the sound of subdued voices from the half-opened
basement window.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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