The thought gave the boy a fierce satisfaction. He now began to wonder just how he was going to recover the boat. Would the rascal dive overboard at the last, or put up a desperate fight to retain possession of his prize?
Frank held to the belief that it was one of the hoboes. That meant he would find himself opposed to a man accustomed to defying the law and ready to commit even a crime in order to retain his liberty.
“He’s a coward, anyhow, or he wouldn’t run that way,” he assured himself, as he worked harder than ever at the paddle.
Now he was close upon the other. Too late the thief tried to head shoreward, and escape in that way. Frank saw his opportunity to cut him off; and again the race started straightaway over the moonlit lake.
Those on the shore at the camp could no longer see the rival canoes. The moonlight was deceptive; and, besides, the fiercely paddling twain had turned the point.
But a new light of a fire had dawned upon the vision of Frank, which he knew came from the camp of the Peters crowd; for the boys had, of course, told him about the arrival of these rough customers on the island.
“I declare, I believe it must be one of that lot, and not the tramp after all,” he muttered, as he again cut the other off from heading ashore.
This put a new face on matters.
He no longer hesitated about coming to conclusions with the thief. If, after all, it was but a boy like himself, he could not meet him any too soon to satisfy his desires.
Observing the fellow’s manner more closely now, he was not long in determining upon his identity.