“Let’s get right out in the motor,” proposed Jack, who had taken
the screw-plug from the gasoline tank in the bow, and ascertained,
by dipping in a stick, that there was fuel enough to run to the Point
and back.
“Better wait until after supper,” advised Marie. “Come over to our
camp, boys, and we’ll give you the best meal we can get up in a
hurry. Then we’ll go over to the Point with you.”
“But we want to look for our canoe,” insisted Phil.
“I know,” replied his sister, “but we’ve got to go to the Point
anyhow. You need some supplies, and the canoe is just as likely to
be in that direction as any other.”
“Not much!” insisted Jack. “The Gypsies wouldn’t take it over that
way—too many chances of being seen.”
“What makes you think the Gypsies took it?” asked Mabel.
“Of course they took it!” cried Jack. “Who else? We come back to
find our camp looted, to quote Natalie, and——”
“Oh, Jack! You’re making fun of me?” she exclaimed.
“I am not, Nat! Looted is a dandy word. Anyhow, our camp is
cleaned out, Blake’s best handkerchief is gone, and good riddance to
that Italian opera, I claim——”
“You wait!” threatened the loser. “I’ll get even with you all right!”
“And then our canoe is gone,” went on Jack, ignoring the protest.
“The Gypsies must have been going about the lake in some kind of
boat. They saw our camp deserted, and helped themselves. Then
they towed off our canoe.”
“But how do you account for them not taking anything from our
camp?” asked Mabel.
“Oh, they were too polite,” said Blake. “Besides, they may not
have had time. Well, if we’re going to get a move on, let’s do it!”
“Come over in about fifteen minutes,” suggested Mrs. Bonnell.
“We’ll be ready for you then. Come on, girls,” and she led the way
back to Dogwood camp, leaving the boys to discuss among