“We have committed many sins,” replied Blake, with mock-heroics, “but far be it from us to rob the helpless. So, Master Jack, you have been soliciting alms in the shape of sardines; hast thou?” “Yes, for you duffers don’t like ’em, and wouldn’t buy any. I offered to pay Nat for a can, only——” “Oh, you’re welcome to them, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Bonnell. “We were only thinking that perhaps you came over here while we were away and——” “No, we didn’t,” said Blake, and he spoke so seriously that there was nothing for it but to believe him. “Just what happened?” “You tell him, Nat,” urged the other Camp Fire Girls and Natalie did. “Doesn’t it look as though some one was here?” she finished, twisting the silver ring on her finger—the ring with the symbol of the seven fagots. “It certainly does,” agreed Blake. “We’ll take a look around,” and he started down to the shore of the lake. “What good will that do?” asked Phil. “Do you think you can spot their feetsteps?” “I might,” answered Blake coolly. “All the girls wear rubber-soled shoes, as we do, and if some stranger came to camp he might have on other kind of coverings. They would show in the soft ground. You take a look back where the road comes in,” he advised. “There might be something in that,” admitted Jack. “Come on, Phil,” and the three were soon scanning the ground about the camp while the girls, rather disturbed by the information that had come to them, finished clearing away the lunch dishes. “It won’t be safe to go away after this,” said Mabel. “Not unless we lock up our best things,” added Alice. “You can’t lock a tent,” declared Marie. “No, but we can our trunks. Oh, the boys have found something!” she suddenly cried, as excited voices came from some little distance away from the tents where the three chums had gone. “Don’t you hit that!” Jack could be heard to yell. “No, leave it alone!” insisted Blake. There was the crash of a stone through the treetops. “Oh, they’re having a fight!” screamed Mabel. “Some one has attacked them!” “Your ammonia gun—quick!” begged Natalie. “Oh, Mrs. Bonnell!” The Guardian made a rush for the sleeping tent. There came a chorus of yells from the boys and then a series of crashing sounds that told of hasty flight through underbrush. “Not that way! Not that way!” yelled Blake. “Do you want to lead ’em to the girls!” “I don’t care where I lead ’em, as long as they let me alone!” answered Phil. “Wow! One got me that time!” “Hurry! Hurry with that ammonia pistol!” besought Natalie, looking to where the boys were running about, wildly waving their hands over their heads. “What did you want to hit it for?” shouted Jack. “I told you what it was!” “But I didn’t think it was,” answered Phil, as he dodged here and there. “What is the matter? Oh, what is the matter?” screamed Mabel. “Are they after you?”