The boy grabbed at a bush, missed it, and went rolling over and over down the smooth incline.
There was a bare sheer descent for nearly thirty feet. Along this Bob sped, and he could not stop himself. He landed at the bottom of the slope, slid across the sand, and came to a stop not ten feet away from the blazing fire.
"It's raining pumpkins!" gasped Bob, sitting up and staring around him.
All along the beach the yellow balls were bounding into view. He saw the guards and the scouts skipping about to get out of the range of the missiles. Fellows who had been in hiding came dashing down to safe ground. Dave gave the signal whistle for "All in."
The boys gathered excitedly about their leader.
"See here, Dave," cried Sammy, "this is the work of 'The Blues!'"
"Of course it is," said Frank.
"Let's capture them," shouted Bob.
"Yes, it's pretty near time to go home, anyway," agreed Dave. "Keep together, fellows. If we catch any of them, we'll put them through a course of sprouts."
"Hear them! hear them!" yelled Sammy.
Derisive cries floated down to the beach. This nettled some of the boys. All of them were glad of a chance for new fun and excitement.
"Divide, fellows," ordered Dave.
"Yes, surround the enemy!" cried Sammy.
The two crowds scrambled up the bluff. Bob looked about for some trace of the two men he had found in their hide-out. They seemed to have gotten away from the spot.
The two parties got to the top of the bluff and ran towards each other, hoping to capture the mischief makers in a group.
