At that the big man turned to his companions, and laughed. No doubt
they felt considerably disappointed, because they had somehow had high
hopes of making an important capture; but after the first keen chagrin
had passed they could enjoy a joke at their own expense.

"You'll have to excuse our bothering you, boys," said he of the bass
voice; "but you see we made a mistake. We're revenue officers, looking
for a notorious smuggler named Cranston, who operates around this
section. We had positive information that he meant to cross over from
Canada in a boat that answered the description of yours to a fraction;
and as it's the habit of these smugglers to adopt all sorts of
disguises, from honest, hard-working fishermen, to anything else that
suits their fancy, we guessed they'd taken to wearing khaki to make us
believe they were a party of the militia out for a cruise."

"And so we turned back, and planned this nice little surprise, when we
saw that you had come in here," remarked a second man, still chuckling.

"Who are you, anyway, boys?" asked the third, who seemed to have more
curiosity than his comrades, though his next words explained the reason
for this; "because I've got two sturdy scouts, in my house, and they've
become so much brighter lads since they joined the patrol that I want to
tell you I'm interested in the movement wherever I run across it. And
when I tell them about this blunder of ours I'd like to mention names,
you know."

"Why, we belong to the Silver Fox Patrol of Cranford Troop of Boys
Scouts," remarked Allan, promptly; "this is our assistant scout-master,
Thad Brewster, who happens to be the pilot of the trip because Dr.
Philander Hobbs, our real leader, had to hurry back home on business;