“Sure,” agreed the others. They finished off the meal with crackers and a jar of jam, with coffee on the side. “Some better than what we had in the cave,” commented Bert, passing his cup for a second helping. “Oh, but that tasted good all right!” declared Jack gratefully. “I wonder what Sam and Nick will say when they find their stuff gone from the cave?” asked Dick. “Do you think it was theirs, Tom?” asked Bert. “I certainly do. I’d say it was Skeel’s, only there was stuff for two campers. Besides, I don’t believe he’d rough it in that fashion. But I sure would like to see Sam and Nick now--not that I have any love for ’em--but I want my boat.” After spending the evening talking about the events of the past two days, and taking another look at the plan of the old mill, the lads turned in. They slept soundly, for they were very tired. “Well, what’s the programme for the day?” asked Jack of Tom, following a bountiful breakfast, for which Bert made pancakes from prepared flour, and served them with bottled maple syrup. “We’ll have another hunt for the boat,” decided Tom. “I’ll take a few more cakes, cook,” he added, passing his plate to Bert. “You will--not!” ejaculated the maker of them. “I want some myself. You’ve had ten at least, and if you think it’s any fun making griddle cakes in a frying pan, you just try it yourself.” “Just give me one,” pleaded Tom, and he got it. “Say, if we go out in the boat we may miss that teamster who is to bring our stuff,” suggested Jack. “And I’d like to send a letter or two back by him, to be mailed.” “That’s right--so would I,” agreed Tom. “We’ll wait until he shows up before going out on the hunt.” So they spent the morning writing letters. The teamster arrived about noon, with some food and supplies for them. He stayed to dinner, and declared it was one of the best he had eaten. “Folks back in Wilden would have it that the hermit had made away with you,” he said. “Not yet, though he got our boat, or somebody has,” said Tom. “Pshaw! That’s too bad. I hope you get it back. Well, I guess I’ll be going. Will you be breaking up camp soon?” “Not until we solve the mystery of the mill,” declared Tom firmly. “Oh shucks! Then you’ll be here all winter,” declared the man, with a laugh. “There’s no mystery of that mill except what old Wallace makes himself. He’s a little cracked in his upper story, I think.” “I shouldn’t wonder,” admitted Tom. “But, all the same, I think there’s something in it, after all, and we’re going to have another try at it, some day.” They went rowing out on the lake after the teamster had left, taking their letters with him. It was small pleasure in the heavy skiff they had confiscated, but they were not out for pleasure just then--they were looking for the motorboat. They covered several miles of lake shore, but saw no sign of the _Tag_, and only gave up when it was evident that they would not get back to camp before dark unless they hurried.