He had come there with the idea that possibly he might catch sight of something which would prove that the burglary had been performed by one of their number. He had scarcely expected to find them seated in a circle dividing the spoils, but it had not seemed impossible that he might discover a telltale can of peaches or a side of bacon. But now, search as he did, not one speck of incriminating evidence could he see. The only course remaining, then, was to retrace his steps through the woods and approach the camp openly by the road. Perhaps, if he made believe that he had lost his way and asked them to set him right, he might get an opportunity to look around the camp and possibly see inside one or two of the tents. He might even buy a basket or two. But, on the point of creeping away, a new plan occurred to him, a plan which engaged his ardor because of its sheer recklessness. The nearest tent was about thirty feet from where he lay, its back toward him. No sounds came from it, but he couldn’t be sure that it was unoccupied, for all of that. Yet, somehow, he believed that it was. It seemed fair to assume that the three men in sight were the only ones left in camp; that the others were away, peddling, dickering for horses, fishing. Surely no one would remain in a stuffy tent a hot day like this, he thought. By creeping a few yards to the left he would have the tent between him and the Gipsies, unless some of the children, who were fairly quiet under the effects of the heat, should take it into their heads to roam his way. But that was a risk he could afford to take, he decided. Once at the back of the tent, he could easily raise the canvas and look in. It might be that he would discover nothing for his pains, but, on the other hand, he might find a good deal. Leaving his rod and the fish under the bush and mentally locating it so that he could recover them later on, he crept back and made a detour of a dozen yards toward the road. When he again reached the edge of the clearing, the tent was in front of him and the Gipsies out of sight. Pausing a moment to rest, for creeping on hands and knees is breath-taking work, he slid stealthily from cover and crept toward the tent. He didn’t pause to listen, for the sooner he was behind the tent the sooner he would be well hidden. But when he crouched against the soiled canvas he paused and harkened intently, his heart pounding against his ribs like a hammer. Only the murmuring of voices reached him, however, and he breathed easier. Putting his head down, he peered under the edge of the canvas, and his heart gave a throb of triumph, for there, not a foot from his nose, were a dozen or more of the stolen cans!