"Begorra, and I'm jist agoing to go down to their place and make 'em hand 'em over," almost shouted Mike.
"No, no, that won't do," said Bob. "You see, we have no positive proof that they took them, and of course they would deny it."
"But, Bob," spoke up Jack. "We've just got to get those caps back. They can get them analyzed and find out how they are made and then our secret is up the flue, because most anyone who knows anything about storage batteries would know that we use either manganese or lead dioxide in the cylinder, and besides we haven't time to make any more before the race."
"You're right there, son. Now just let me think a minute," said Bob, and then a moment later, "I'm going to try it. It's the only way and it may work."
"What may work?" asked Jack.
"Never mind just now, but I'm going to get those caps back if they haven't thrown them into the lake or break a tug trying."
That night about 8.30, Bob, dressed in a dark suit and wearing sneakers, stole down to the boathouse, and getting into the little canoe, started paddling down the lake. The Jenkins cottage was about three miles from the head of the lake, on the east shore. It stood in a thick grove of cedars, about forty feet from the shore.
Reaching a place, about a quarter of a mile from the cottage, just inside a point of land reaching out into the lake, Bob drew his canoe from the water and hid it in a little clump of bushes near the water's edge. Circling around away from the lake he approached the house from the rear. As he got within a few paces of the cottage, a dog began to bark and Bob shuddered as he knew that they kept a large collie which had a reputation of being very savage.
"He's coming this way sure as guns," thought Bob, as he heard the animal creeping through the bushes. Picking up a stone about as large as his fist, which he felt under his feet, he crept back behind a tree, hoping that the dog would not follow. But this hope was not realized, for the keen-nosed animal had scented him, and with a low growl was approaching. Holding the stone tightly Bob waited for the attack which he saw was inevitable. Just then the moon came out from behind a cloud and by its light, he saw the brute almost upon him and about to spring. Drawing back his arm he let fly the rock. Bob had pitched on the Skowhegan high school team for two years, and his practice now stood him in good stead, for the stone flew true to the mark and hit the dog right between the eyes. With a single loud yelp he went down, gave a kick or two and was still.
"By Gum, I believe I've killed him," said Bob to himself. "Well, it was either he or I and I'm mighty glad it wasn't I."