"What's that?"
"Pine-knots and puzzles!" gasped Kirk. "The 'Nimrod,' sure as fate."
The rapid pulsation of a motor boat suddenly started up.
"Come on!" yelled Bob. "The rascals are stealing that boat."
Thoroughly angry and alarmed, the boys dashed on. Kirk tripped over a trailing vine and fell headlong in a mass of underbrush. His torch landed amidst the twigs and set them ablaze, but the lad, though badly shaken up, was on his feet in an instant, stamped out the fire and dashed on.
Lights moving in a fantastic fashion and many shouts showed that the rest of the boys were following. Bob Somers reached the site of their first camp. The water lapped at his feet, while the flaring torch sent a circle of light over the bay.
The "Nimrod" had disappeared.
"It's gone!" gasped Bob Somers.
"Stolen!" cried Kirk Talbot, in dismay.
"Great Cæsar! There must be a gang of motor boat thieves around these diggings."