Jimmy was the first one to arouse himself, and it was hot anger that caused him to show so much activity.
"P'raps they haven't gone far, Ned, and if we got a hustle on we might manage to ketch up with the measly skunks. If they try to pack our boats through the woods, they'll have a time of it, let me tell you. Are we agoin' to give chase? Oh! I'm as fresh as a daisy right now. Seems like I could run for hours, if I had an idea I'd overtake the canoe thieves."
Ned shook his head.
"No use, Jimmy," he told the furious scout; "because they haven't carried our boats ashore. If you look, you'll see where they paddled out on to the river. You remember, we hid all traces of our own passage, yet here you can see a wide swath among the reeds, bending them back."
They saw that he spoke the truth, even Jimmy admitting the sad facts with a groan that seemed to well up from his shoes, it was so disconsolate.
"Five hundred miles—five hundred of 'em! Gosh!" he was heard to tell himself, as he stood there, rubbing the side of his head, as though he felt like one in a stupor or a dream.
"And as we haven't a single boat, of course we can't pursue them," remarked Jack between his clinched teeth, while his eyes glittered angrily.
"Oh! what wouldn't I have given to have come on the rascals just in the act of getting away with our boats!" breathed Frank, as he shook his rifle, after the manner of a scout who has thrown discretion to the winds.
"Well, let's not whimper and cry over spilt milk, anyway," said Ned, who could always be depended on to bring the boys to their proper senses.
"That's so," echoed Jack, quick to see the importance of keeping their senses about them in this dilemma. "We've got to do something, that's sure, and so let's get to talking it over sensibly."