“When did you notice it was gone?” asked Mrs. Bonnell.
“Just now. Of course it was gone when we came back here from our trip, but we didn’t notice it, I guess. But it’s sure gone all right,” and Jack added his searching gaze to that of his two chums. But on the darkening surface of the lake there was no such craft to be seen as the small green canoe the boys had hired.
“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.