There was a laugh at this. The idea that the heavy boat could have swung round seemed preposterous. But the Tenderfoot was right after all. The _Olivette_ had unaccountably launched herself, and was now riding to her bow-rope and the ebb tide. CHAPTER II Stolen "Well, I'm blest! How did that happen? Quick with the dinghy, lads. No, Bruin, you stop there. It's much too late for little dogs to go afloat." Four of the Sea Scouts manned the dinghy and pushed off to the _Olivette_. The bow-rope was cast off from the shore and made fast through the dinghy's stern ring-bolt to the transom. Then, with the gentle tide, the lads towed the _Olivette_ to her moorings. "Not such a bad day's work after all," commented Stratton after they had rowed back to the beach and taken the unnecessary jack back to the garage. "Ten o'clock to-morrow will be early enough. It's no use burning the candle at both ends." Bidding his companions good-night, Peter whistled to Bruin and walked briskly home. His house lay half a mile inland from Milford-on-Sea, and to reach it he had to cut across a field, rejoining a main road within a few yards of the old church. It was now past midnight, but the crew of the _Olivette_ had told their people that they would be late home, and, being used to sea and ships, and knowing how dependent seafarers are upon the tide, the lads' parents realized the necessity for late hours on this occasion. Peter had just cleared the stile when he noticed two men approaching. The moon was behind a cloud, but there was sufficient light to enable him to see that they were two strangers, and apparently fisherfolk. They were wearing jerseys, grey trousers, and canvas shoes. Slung over their shoulders were their pilot coats and sea boots, while one man carried a large canvas sack and was grumbling about its weight. "Good night!" said the Patrol Leader, but the men passed him by in silence. "Surly blighters," soliloquized Peter. "Wonder what they're doing this time of night. Fishermen from 'up along' most likely, who've had to wait for a fair tide back." A few minutes later Peter was sleeping the sleep of healthy exhaustion, nor did he wake until eight o'clock next morning, when he was roused by his father announcing that Tom Boldrigg was waiting to speak to him. "It's about the _Olivette_, Peter," added Mr. Stratton. Hastily throwing on his clothes, the Patrol Leader went downstairs. "Good morning, Mr. Boldrigg," he said. "Good morning, Master Peter," rejoined the ex-coastguardsman, getting to the point at once. "Do you know that craft of yours ain't on her moorings?" "No!" replied the astonished Peter. "She was there all right last night, and I made sure the bridle of the moorings was firmly secured to the bitts."