that which the five chums possessed.

Of the lot possibly Bandy-legs was the only one who did not show great
enthusiasm over the project. Max noticed that he seemed to simply let
the others do the talking, though when a vote was taken upon whether or
not they should accept the challenge, the Griffin boy's hand went up
with the rest. Still, that was certainly a sigh that broke from his
lips.

"What's the matter, Bandy-legs? Don't you feel like making the try?"
demanded the impetuous Steve, quick to notice that the other was not
brimming over with the same kind of eagerness that actuated himself.

"Oh! I'm going along, all right," declared the shorter chum, doggedly.
"Ketch me staying out when the rest of you want to go. But I never
dreamed I'd ever pluck up the nerve to stay a night on that blooming
island. Why, ever since I c'n remember I've heard the tallest yarns
about it. Some say it's just a nest of crawlers; and others, that all
the varmints left unshot in the big timber up beyond have a roost on
that strip of land in the middle of the river."

"Rats!" scoffed Steve, derisively. "That's all talk; hot air, you might
say. Don't believe there's any truth in it, any more'n that story about
ghosts, and queer noises that Herb and his crowd tell about. Anyhow, I
never let a dare go past me."

"That's right, Steve," remarked Owen; "it acts on you just like a red
flag does on a bull. But it's decided, is it, fellows, that we go
to-morrow noon?"