The Ramblers, as well as their companions, were thoroughly¹ dismayed at the startling turn in affairs.  
"Some one must have stolen the boats," declared Sam Randall; "but what has become of Dave?"
 
"Perhaps the thieves kidnapped him," suggested Tom Clifton, brilliantly.
 
"Why should they do such a thing as that?" returned Kirk Talbot. "I don't believe it. What do you think, Nat?"
 
"I never was so completely mystified in my life," returned the leader of the Nimrods, who accepted the situation with a coolness that greatly surprised his followers⁴. "It looks as though our grand expedition has come to an end."
 
"What is going to be done?" asked John Hackett.
 
"We had better start out for Kingswood in the morning," said Nat, in tones of decided⁵ conviction.
 
"And make no effort to recover the boats?" exclaimed Bob, in surprise.
 
Nat shrugged⁶ his shoulders. "We are out in the wilderness⁷. I don't see any police around, do you?"
 
"And what about Dave Brandon?"
 
"We couldn't do him any good by staying here. Ten to one he has simply rushed off to tell the authorities at Kingswood."
 
But Nat Wingate's ideas did not meet with approval. The thoroughly disgusted and anxious boys walked up and down, excitedly discussing the matter, advancing many possible solutions of the mystery, and entirely⁸ forgetful of their fatigue⁹ and hunger.
 
The unaccountable disappearance¹⁰ of Dave Brandon alarmed them not a little. Some of the boys now proceeded to skirmish around in the immediate¹¹ vicinity, swinging their lanterns in many a dark nook and corner, others shouted at the top of their voices, but, of course, all these efforts were without avail.
 
"Boys," said Bob Somers, at length, "I feel sure that Dave Brandon knows how to take care of himself. If he doesn't bring us any news of the boat, I'll find it, if the job takes a year. You seem to take your loss very coolly, Nat."
 
"What would you expect me to do? Stand on my head, or tear my hair?" returned Wingate. "If I never have to bear anything worse than a robbery I guess you'll find me smiling. I'm going to get the 'Nimrod,' and in a hurry, too, you can bet on that. I believe that whoever took the boat went off in the direction of Kingswood. There is a town at the head of the lake, where the police might get 'em."
 
"We can't do anything to-night, that's certain, fellows," said Dick Travers, disconsolately¹². "But boats or no boats, unless I get something to eat soon—"
 
"Yes, I'm almost starved," interrupted Ted³ Pollock. "I move that we build a fire and start a meal."
 
The wisdom of this was apparent to all. In spite of their anxiety, the whole party managed to eat with a hearty¹³ appetite.
 
It was unanimously decided to keep up the fire, which had been built near the water's edge, so that in case Dave Brandon might be lost in the woods, its flaring¹⁴ light would point the way back to camp.
 
"I'll bet the 'Oh ho' boy ran for his life," declared Nat, with a laugh.
 
"Dave is no coward," protested Sam Randall, warmly. "Besides if he had stayed around here, we would have seen him before this."
 
Night wore on and the boys became more and more anxious. No one felt like sleeping, so wood was piled on the fire, until leaping, fantastic tongues of flame threw weird¹⁵ shadows about, while showers of embers sparkled against the background of trees and sky.
 
Gradually conversation ceased. They seated themselves, one by one, in moody¹⁶ silence, yawning and blinking, sleepy, yet unable to sleep.
 
Another hour passed, when a faint sound made Bob Somers listen with the keenest attention. Jumping to his feet, he placed his hand to his ear.
 
"Listen!"
 
Instantly the lads were all attention.
 
"What is it?" they cried, in unison¹⁸.
 
"My eye! I think I hear a motor boat," exclaimed John Hackett, after several moments had passed.
 
"Bears, wildcats and wolves! I believe that's just what it is," chimed in Kirk Talbot, excitedly.
 
Nat Wingate seemed strangely agitated¹⁹, as the sound gradually increased in volume. He walked nervously²⁰ up and down, with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
 
"If it is only the 'Rambler,'" cried Bob Somers, hopefully. He brought out his field-glass, sweeping²¹ the surface of the river.
 
"Do you see anything?" inquired Nat, eagerly.
 
"No! not a thing, yet."
 
Great masses of vapor²², through which the moon shone faintly, were slowly passing across the sky, but Bob kept his glass leveled toward the horizon.
 
"I'll bet it's not either the 'Nimrod' or 'Rambler,'" observed Nat, a moment later.
 
"Oh, don't have such dreadful thoughts. You make me nervous," expostulated young Talbot.
 
"It seems an awful long time since we first heard the sound," complained Ted Pollock. "If it's the 'Ram—'"
 
"I see the boat, boys," broke in Bob, energetically.
 
Dick Travers seized the glass, which Somers extended toward him, quickly raised it to his eyes and took a long, earnest look.
 
"Both boats," he announced, joyfully²³. "One is towing the other."
 
Greatly excited, the Ramblers and Nimrods crowded to the very edge of the water, where they awaited, with much impatience²⁴, the approach of the two craft.
 
"Ahoy, ahoy!" shouted a familiar voice, through a megaphone. "Ahoy, pirates and brigands²⁵, is that you?"
 
"Dave Brandon," cried Bob Somers, joyously²⁶. "Hurrah²⁷! Three cheers for Chubby²⁸!"
 
Their lusty shouts were borne toward the distant boatman.
 
How slowly the two craft seemed to swing in! It actually was but a short time, however, before the boys began a steady fire of questions.
 
"Hold on! Wait until I get these canal-boats safely in shore, and I'll tell you all about it," cried the poet laureate, hugely enjoying the sensation caused by his reappearance.
 
With another chorus of shouts, his friends surrounded him, as he leaped ashore²⁹.
 
"Give me a chance," pleaded the lad. "I can't answer fifty questions at once."
 
When quiet was restored, Dave told what had happened, interrupted by many exclamations³⁰ from the deeply interested boys.
 
The poet laureate found himself raised to the rank of a hero, the praises showered upon him causing a blush to suffuse³¹ his features.
 
"Bully³² for you, Chubby!" said Bob Somers, grasping his hand, warmly. "Our trip would have come to a fine finish. Three more cheers for Dave Brandon," he called, with a will, and every one joined in.
 
"If it hadn't been for the 'Nimrod,' you would have lost your boat, anyway," declared Nat, who, through the entire proceeding³³, had acted in a restrained manner.
 
"It's a good thing that the 'Rambler' is a slow tub, fellows," put in John Hackett. "If the thieves had had brains enough to take the 'Nimrod,' it would have meant—"
 
"That we started away from here this very day," finished Nat, glibly³⁴; "but having been so lucky, we must stay a while to celebrate, that's no joke."
 
Excitement having come to an end, fatigue and sleep were fast getting the better of all.
 
"I'll sleep on board the 'Rambler,'" declared Bob. "It won't do to take any more chances, eh, Chubby?"
 
Dave nodded his head.
 
It was quite late in the morning before the camp was astir. In spite of the protests of Nat and his fellow Nimrods, Bob Somers decided to continue their journey.
 
"By this afternoon, we ought to reach Lake Minnewago," he said. "After going its whole length, we still have a trip through Wolf River, then a whopping long journey on Clair Bay."
 
"Well," said Nat, "if you fellows are going on so are we."
 
No time was lost in getting off, the boys contenting themselves with a light breakfast.
 
Toward eleven o'clock, a few houses were seen here and there, along the river. Others, appearing at intervals³⁵, showed that they were approaching the town at the head of the lake. Boats were numerous, and signs of life rapidly began to multiply on all sides.
 
"What do you say to taking lunch in town, boys?" suggested Bob. "You know we have to get a supply of gasoline and some more grub."
 
"Fine idea," agreed Tom Clifton. "Then we can send a few postal³⁶ cards home, telling the folks that the Rambler Club hasn't furnished food for bears or wildcats."
 
Half an hour later, a church spire³⁷ was seen rising high above the surrounding houses, while straight ahead a long iron bridge crossed the river.
 
The arrival of a strange boat naturally attracted a great deal of attention from the idlers lounging around the wharves³⁸, and numerous questions were hurled³⁹ at them.
 
A party of small boys in a clumsy rowboat obligingly pointed⁴¹ out the best place for them to land. It was an old, tumble-down wharf⁴², with an incline leading down to the water.
 
Bob swung the "Rambler" in at moderate speed, making a landing in excellent style. Then the boys drew lots to decide who should be the first to go on shore. Perhaps there was no actual necessity for this, but their recent experience had made them careful.
 
Bob Somers, Dave Brandon and Tom Clifton presently sprang upon the landing and made their way up to a narrow street fronting the river. It was lined with small warehouses⁴³, stores, and a few manufacturing establishments. The clash and rattle⁴⁴ of machinery⁴⁵ assailed⁴⁶ their ears as they walked along, smoke from numerous chimneys obscured the air, while now and then the odor of tar² and hemp⁴⁷ was perceptible.
 
River boats, barges⁴⁸ and sailing craft were drawn⁴⁹ up at the wharves, and the street was crowded with drays and trucks.
 
A short walk brought them to the iron bridge, which crossed overhead. They saw that it was used by a railroad; in fact, a train approached just at this time and they could tell by the sound that it soon stopped at a station.
 
The boys found a store where provisions and gasoline were sold. Accordingly Bob made a bargain to have a supply of both delivered to the "Rambler."
 
They had now reached a wide street running directly back from the river, and turning into this, a very few minutes sufficed to bring them to the principal business section of the town. It was a larger and much more important place than Kingswood, possessing an opera house, several large hotels and many handsome stores. The ............