"I don't know," replied Phil. "I should say it depended entirely upon who had taken the trouble to spirit it away."
While the two girls stood gazing moodily out over the bay a hard, green apple landed with a thump on top of Madge's uncovered head. Madge and Phil looked up simultaneously. There in a gnarled old apple tree directly above them appeared the grinning face of the small boy whose acquaintance Madge had made earlier in the morning.
"Lost your boat, ain't you?" he asked cheerfully.
Madge nodded and walked on. She was not anxious to renew conversation with the mischievous youngster.
Phil, however, was seized with an inspiration. "Have you been about this place very long?" she inquired casually.
"Yep," the boy returned.
"Then, perhaps, you know what has become of our boat," suggested Phil.
"Yep," answered the voice from the tree, "I know all about it."
"Then tell us this minute what has become of it!" ordered Madge. "I knew the moment I saw you that you were the very imp of mischief. Tell us where our boat is at once."
"I won't tell," the urchin spoke firmly.