And there was. By one o’clock their pails were filled to overflowing and Dick’s cap had been called into service. So they started homeward, very warm and hungry. Only one incident marred the return. Dick in a moment of forgetfulness, finding the sun uncomfortably warm on his head, thoughtlessly attempted to put his cap on, and half a pint of berries was lost. They still had fully five quarts, however, and, as Chub pointed out, philosophically, there was no use in crying over spilled berries. They reached the island again at a little after two and found a note pinned to the front of the tent.
“Very sorry,” it read, “to be out when you called. Come again. W. N.”
“He’s back!” cried Harry.
“Wonder why he didn’t write it in poetry,” said Chub.
“Wonder what he swiped,” growled Roy.
“By Jove!” exclaimed Dick. “That’s so. I guess we’d better look around.”
“I think it’s horrid of you to be so suspicious,” said Harry. “I just know he didn’t take a thing!”
And as far as they could find out Harry was right.
“As soon as we’ve had dinner,” said Dick, “we’ll go around there and see him. How would it do to take some berries along? We’ve got heaps more than we need.”
“Bully!” said Chub.