“Bring that box under the back seat when you come,” called Ned to Bob, who was handing out the eatables.
“What box?” demanded the stout youth.
“The one marked ‘cakes.’ I put in a tin of fancy ones.”
“Good,” cried Bob, who had a sweet tooth.
He reached under the seat, where Ned had told him, but a look of surprise spread over Bob’s face, as he brought out an empty tin.
“They’re gone!” he cried.
“What’s gone?” asked Ned.
“The cakes!”
“They are? Then somebody’s eaten ’em! I’ll have a look!”
Ned ran toward the car, but, before he reached it, there was a movement under the seat. The leather flap was lifted up and a voice said, mildly enough: