“Look here!” cried Marie, as she detected a grin on the faces of Blake and Phil, “you boys have been taking stuff; haven’t you? Own up now, if you have. We’ll forgive you, for we don’t want to have to worry; and, really, it’s enough to make any one nervous.”
“Not guilty,” answered Phil.
“We have committed many sins,” replied Blake, with mock-heroics, “but far be it from us to rob the helpless. So, Master Jack, you have been soliciting alms in the shape of sardines; hast thou?”
“Yes, for you duffers don’t like ’em, and wouldn’t buy any. I offered to pay Nat for a can, only——”
“Oh, you’re welcome to them, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Bonnell. “We were only thinking that perhaps you came over here while we were away and——”
“No, we didn’t,” said Blake, and he spoke so seriously that there was nothing for it but to believe him. “Just what happened?”
“You tell him, Nat,” urged the other Camp Fire Girls and Natalie did.
“Doesn’t it look as though some one was here?” she finished, twisting the silver ring on her finger—the ring with the symbol of the seven fagots.
“It certainly does,” agreed Blake. “We’ll take a look around,” and he started down to the shore of the lake.
“What good will that do?” asked Phil. “Do you think you can spot their feetsteps?”