Tom’s brain was getting weary with so much hard thinking. He felt as if he was back in Elmwood Hall, and had to puzzle over some hard geometry proposition. “I’m going to bed,” he decided at length. “Maybe in the morning I’ll be fresher and can think better.” He collected a quantity of dry wood, and had it in readiness to throw on the embers of the campfire. He also took a lantern with him inside the sleeping tent, turning the wick low, and he had a gun in readiness. “I’m not going to be taken by surprise if I can help it,” he mused. “That’s how they must have gotten Jack and the others into their power. I’ll fight if they try to get me, and they might, for with one of us loose they know there’ll be an attempt at a rescue.” Tom made himself comfortable on his cot, but for a time he could not sleep. Then he fell into a doze, only to awaken with a start as he heard someone prowling about the camp. “Who’s there?” he called, sitting up and reaching out for his gun. There was no answer, and Tom arose and peered from the flaps of the tent. As he did so he saw a movement near the boxes where the provisions were kept. “Get out of there!” he cried, as he fired in the air. A dark body leaped away and an ember of the fire, flaring up just then, revealed a small animal. “Only a fox!” laughed our hero. “Go ahead, you’re welcome to all you can get,” for he had made the provisions secure before turning in. He was not again disturbed, and to his surprise the sun was high in the heavens when he awoke. “I must have gotten in some good licks of sleep the latter part of the night,” he reasoned, as he stretched and arose. “Now for a good breakfast, and then to see what’s best to do.” It was lonesome eating, all by himself, especially as he thought of the jolly times he and his several chums had had around the packing-box table. “I wonder if they have anything for breakfast?” Tom mused, as he sipped his coffee. “Well, I hope I can soon get ’em back with me again. The hermit, or Skeel, probably captured them to prevent them from making any further search for the treasure. But I’m here yet!” and he closed his teeth grimly. “Of course, after all, we haven’t any right to it,” he went on, “and if we do find it, and it belongs to old Wallace, I’ll see that he gets it. But I like the fun of hunting for it, and, since they’ve been so mean I’ll be mean too, and do my best to beat ’em.” Breakfast over, Tom busied himself about the camp, washing the dishes, bringing in fresh water, and getting everything in order. It gave him something to do, so that he would not feel so lonesome, and he found that he could think better when he was occupied. But, with all his reflection, he could not seem to hit on a plan of rescue. One plan after another was formed, only to be rejected.