At a distance he heard the masked cadets stealing swiftly along through the woods.  They had put out the lantern, knowing the road fairly well through repeated excursions to the den.  Soon the crowd was completely out of hearing.

It must be confessed that Dick felt lonely, and almost the first thing he did was to take a match from his pocket and strike it.  Discovering a bit of candle on the table he lighted this also.

But little was to be seen outside of that which had already met his gaze.  The hermit’s den had been cleaned up around the table, on which rested half a dozen bottles, an empty cigar box, and several packs of cards.

“This must be the stuff those fellows bought in Oakville,” thought the eldest Rover.  “They have been using this cave for a regular club room.  What a beastly crowd they are!  And they really imagine they are having good times, too!”

As will be remembered, Dick had been given a trip on a rowboat before being brought into the den and he imagined that he was somewhere near the head of Bass Lake, how far from the camp he could not tell.

“Perhaps I’m near where Tom and the others met those snakes,” he mused.  “Ugh!  I don’t want to fall in with things like that.  And how I am to get back to camp without a boat is more than I can settle.”

Blowing out the bit of candle, he placed it in his pocket and left the den.  On all sides were the thick bushes already described, and poor Dick knew not which way to turn.  He listened once more, but hardly a sound broke the midnight silence.

“Might as well strike out as to stay here,” he said.  “I don’t think they’ll come back in very much of a hurry, and perhaps they won’t come until morning.”

Pushing his way through the bushes he at last reached a tiny stream that poured over the rocks.  He followed the stream and after half an hour’s hard walking reached the edge of the lake.  He had journeyed directly away from the camp and was now in a spot that was lonely in the extreme.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the water at this point was very shallow and soon Dick was wading over to what he took to be the island upon which the encampment had been located.  But as a matter of fact he was headed for the main shore of the lake, and soon he was tramping further away from the camp than ever.  For once in his life, so far as his bump of locality was concerned, Dick was hopelessly mixed.

Dick traveled nearly a mile before he reached the conclusion that he was not on Pine Island or anywhere near it.

“I’m on the mainland, that’s certain,” he told himself.  “I guess the best thing I can do is to wait for daylight before going further.  I may only—­Hullo, a light!”

Dick had emerged from a grove of trees and now saw a light streaming from the window of a cottage but a short distance away.  The sight of this caused him to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Some farmer’s place, I suppose,” he murmured.  “Well, anything will do.  I can get a place to sleep, and the farmer can testify to it that I haven’t been drinking, as Lew Flapp and his cronies will want to prove.”