“Bob,” whispered Tom, huskily, “do you see—it’s gone—it isn’t there. Do you see—the camp—the old tent—it’s gone, as sure as we’re standing here.” They rushed forward to where the tent had been but a few hours before that afternoon, and stood there dismayed. There in the open air were their bunks, their camp-stools, their camp-kit, and the great chest; but the tent that had sheltered them had disappeared. Around about the spot were holes where the stakes that had held it had been hastily wrenched out, but not a scrap of canvas nor a piece of rope that had guyed it were to be seen. Only the poles that had been its frame lay upon the ground. Their tent had utterly vanished. CHAPTER XII. A CRUISE AROUND THE ISLAND “Well, Bob,” said Tom, as they seated themselves on the bunks to collect their wits and think the situation over, “we know who did it, of course. The next thing is to prove it.” “It won’t be so easy,” responded Bob. “Jack Harvey hasn’t done this thing without first planning out how he could dispose of the tent without attracting the slightest attention. He planned it in a good time, too, when half the village was away at the clambake.” “Yes,” said Tom, “and that’s what he sailed out on that short trip for, to look in at our tent without exciting any suspicion. He found out that there wasn’t anybody around it, and then he and the others came down past our fire on purpose for us to see them and to prove by every one there that they were in another part of the island when our camp was stolen. He did it, though, and he’s covered it up well. We’ll have hard work to prove it against him.” “I’ll be madder to-morrow, when I’m not so sleepy.” said Bob. “Let’s go on up to the Warren cottage now, and wait till to-morrow before doing anything. It isn’t going to rain to-night, and the stuff will not be harmed out here without a covering.” So they travelled up to the Warren cottage, greatly to the surprise of the Warren boys, who had gone to bed and were sound asleep when they got there, and greatly to the concern of good Mrs. Warren, whose indignation did more to comfort them than anything else in the world could have. There was always room for more in the spacious old cottage, and they were soon stowed away in bed, quickly forgetting their troubles in sleep. “You’ll stay right here for the rest of the summer,” said Mrs. Warren the next morning at breakfast. “You can bring your camp stuff up and store it in the shed, and I guess it will be safe there from Jack Harvey or anybody else. It’s a crying shame, but you’re welcome here, so don’t feel too bad about it. I don’t think the boys will be sorry to have you here.” “I guess we won’t,” cried the Warren boys, in chorus. “But we’ll get that tent yet, I think,” said George Warren. “I don’t believe Jack Harvey would dare destroy it. He’s got it hidden somewhere, depend upon it. And we must find out where that place is.”