"Boys," said Bob Somers, at length, "I feel sure that Dave Brandon knows how to take care of himself. If he doesn't bring us any news of the boat, I'll find it, if the job takes a year. You seem to take your loss very coolly, Nat."
"What would you expect me to do? Stand on my head, or tear my hair?" returned Wingate. "If I never have to bear anything worse than a robbery I guess you'll find me smiling. I'm going to get the 'Nimrod,' and in a hurry, too, you can bet on that. I believe that whoever took the boat went off in the direction of Kingswood. There is a town at the head of the lake, where the police might get 'em."
"We can't do anything to-night, that's certain, fellows," said Dick Travers, disconsolately. "But boats or no boats, unless I get something to eat soon—"
"Yes, I'm almost starved," interrupted Ted Pollock. "I move that we build a fire and start a meal."
The wisdom of this was apparent to all. In spite of their anxiety, the whole party managed to eat with a hearty appetite.
It was unanimously decided to keep up the fire, which had been built near the water's edge, so that in case Dave Brandon might be lost in the woods, its flaring light would point the way back to camp.
"I'll bet the 'Oh ho' boy ran for his life," declared Nat, with a laugh.
"Dave is no coward," protested Sam Randall, warmly. "Besides if he had stayed around here, we would have seen him before this."
Night wore on and the boys became more and more anxious. No one felt like sleeping, so wood was piled on the fire, until leaping, fantastic tongues of flame threw weird shadows about, while showers of embers sparkled against the background of trees and sky.
Gradually conversation ceased. They seated themselves, one by one, in moody silence, yawning and blinking, sleepy, yet unable to sleep.