“Who could have done it?” inquired Roy. “We don’t know any one around here, now that school is closed.”
“Wait a bit,” exclaimed Dick. “Here’s something on the other side; it’s been rubbed out, but I can see the words ‘set’ and ‘Billings,’ and there are some figures, I think.”
“‘Seth Billings,’” pondered Roy. “It isn’t ‘Seth Billings,’ is it?”
“No, I don’t think so; I can’t see any h. Here, you see what you can make of it.”
Roy took the paper and scrutinized it closely, but was unable to decipher any more than Dick.
“Well, ‘Seth Billings’ wants to keep away from this camp in future,” said Chub, “or he will get his head punched.”
“I don’t think his name can be Seth Billings,” said Harry, “because he signed that verse ‘N. W.’”
“‘W. N.,’” Chub corrected. “Not that it matters, though. He was probably going by in a boat and saw the camp and just naturally snooped around and helped himself to—say, do you suppose he’s taken anything else?”
There was a concerted movement toward the tent and a rapid inventory of their property. Nothing was missing, however; or so, at least, it seemed until Dick raised the cover of the tin bread-box. Then: