“That’s what I came up to see you about. The fact is, I have known you fellows blew up our cave ever since I saw your face”—looking at Tom—“at the door of our tent last night. Then I found, too, where your canoe had landed on the edge of the shore, and just where that big scratch was made. The paint is on the rocks yet. Now I don’t think you fellows used me square, though I know you did it because you thought we stole your box—”
“Which you did,” interrupted Tom.
Again the quick flush in Harvey’s face, and again the gesture as though he would strike Tom a blow; but he did not do it, as he had refrained before.
“No, there’s where you are wrong,” he said; “though I don’t deny that one of the crew took it,—not knowing it was yours. They wouldn’t one of them take anything from you.”
“Which is not true,” said Tom, quietly.
This was more than Harvey could stand. With clenched fist, he rushed at Tom, aiming a heavy blow at his face, and crying, as he did so: “I lie, do I? Then take that!”
Tom partially avoided the blow by stepping back and guarding his face with one arm. The blow fell short, striking him near the shoulder. At the same time, however, he tripped over the packing-case, and that, with the force of the blow, sent him over backwards, so that he fell all in a heap in one corner of the tent.
Harvey darted for the door, to make his escape; but Bob sprang at him and the two clinched. Harvey was larger and more than a match for either one of them, and, with a quick twist, threw Bob violently to the floor. But the latter clung to him and brought him down, too. Then, before Harvey could break Bob’s hold, Tom had recovered himself and thrown himself upon him. He rolled Harvey over, and the next moment he and Bob had him securely pinned to the floor.
“Now,” said Tom, as they held him fast, “we are not going to hurt you, Jack Harvey, because we are no such cowards; but I’ve got something to say to you which it will be for your advantage to listen to.
“In the first place, let me tell you that you are a coward and as good as a thief. You didn’t steal our box because one of your crew did it for you and saved you the trouble; but you knew it was stolen from us, and would have taken it yourself if you had had the chance. You need not tell us that your crew would not steal from us, for we know better, and so do you. In the second place, I want to tell you that we blew up your cave without intending to do more than burn some of the things in it. The rest we took out,—though it doesn’t make much difference now what our intentions were.