All at once he remembered the missing box. He had nearly reached his tent by this time, but he stopped short. He called to mind the contents of the box; among other things, a certain big cake, with frosting on it, and, although he and Bob, as young athletes, were bound to hold such food in little regard, there was one thing about it which particularly impressed him just now, and that was the remembrance of how he had watched Bob’s sister, with her dainty little fingers, mould the frosting on the top, and how she had slyly wondered—as if there could be any doubt of it—whether they, meaning Tom, would think of her while they were eating it. The thought of that cake falling into the hands of Jack Harvey and of Tim Reardon and the others of Harvey’s crew, and of the jokes they would crack at Tom’s expense, made his blood boil. He started in the direction of Harvey’s camp, then turned back to get Bob to accompany him,—and then paused and went on again, saying to himself that he would not awaken his chum at that hour of the night. He started off through the woods alone. The night was warm and pleasant, though it was quite dark, as there was no moon. He passed by the cottages, and then turned into a foot-path that followed the windings of the shore. The path led for some distance through a thicket of alders and underbrush, from which at length it emerged into an open field. Crossing this, Tom again entered a growth of wood, the path winding among the roots of some old hemlocks and cedars. All at once he saw a light shining indistinctly through the trees, and knew that it must be in the immediate vicinity of Harvey’s camp. “So much the better, if they are up,” muttered Tom. “If they’re sitting around that fire they are sure to be talking.” He hurried on in the direction of the light, still following the path. The fire soon became plainly visible. At a point where the path divided he could see the white tent, lit up by a big fire of driftwood that blazed in front of it. He could hear the sound of voices, and distinguished that of Harvey above the others. There seemed to be some insubordination in camp, for Harvey’s tones were loud and angry. Tom concluded not to take the path to the left, which was the one leading direct to the camp, but continued on for a distance along the main path. It was well he did so, for presently he heard some one coming toward him. The paths were at this point so near together that he could not distinguish which one the person was taking; so he drew aside and crouched in the bushes, which were very dense between the two paths. A boy, whom he recognized as Tim Reardon, soon came in sight, and passed close by the spot where Tom was concealed. He carried a pail in his hand, and was evidently going to a spring near by for water. He was grumbling to himself as he passed along.