"Pirate!" muttered Bob.

They rushed fiercely at Henry Burns, who, however, smiling serenely, still held on tightly to the bundle of clothing.

"Pay me my price for them, and you can have them all," he said.

"How much?" asked Tom.

"Wait till we try them on and see if they still fit," said Bob.

"My price," answered Henry Burns, depositing the bundle on a chair and seating himself upon an end of one of the bunks, "is that you tell me how you came so near to blowing up Jack Harvey's camp last night."

It was a long shot on his part, but it went straight to the mark. There was an awkward silence for almost a minute. Finally Tom said:

"There's no use trying to keep a secret from him, Bob. He knows half already. We may as well tell him all, and see what he thinks of it."

"Fire away, Tom," said Bob. "No one was injured, anyway, so no great harm can come of it."

So Tom related to Henry Burns the story of the night's adventure. Henry listened with the greatest interest.

"I'd have given a good deal," he said, "to see Jack Harvey when he found his cave blown up, with all their spoils along with it."

When the story was finished, however, he was inclined to treat the matter more seriously than they had supposed he would.

"I'm afraid it's a bad sc.r.a.pe to be in," he said at length. "From what I have heard about our friend Harvey, I judge he is not one of the kind to let a thing of this sort go without paying somebody back for it. And I believe he is as sure to find out who blew up that cave as I am that I am sitting here."

"How can that be?" asked Bob.

"I can't say," replied Henry Burns; "but if you keep your eyes open, you will see that he suspects you. I'll warrant if we could see Jack Harvey now, we should see him out examining every inch of the sh.o.r.e, looking at the rocks on the beach for any paint that might be sc.r.a.ped off your canoe, and all such things as that. He is a shrewd one, and, when he has once satisfied himself that you and Tom wrecked his cave, why, I wouldn't give a fig for your camp here,-that is, unless you propose to stay at home all the time to guard it."

Strange to say, if they could have seen Jack Harvey just then, they would have witnessed a most startling confirmation of Henry Burns's words. For Jack Harvey, at that moment, was at the sh.o.r.e once more. He was examining every inch of it. He was scrutinizing every rock along the beach. He was out among the ledges, looking carefully along their sides. He was searching here, and he was searching there,-but what he found he neither confided to his crew nor to any one else, but kept locked for the present in his own breast.

"I believe Henry is right," said Tom. "And it isn't the most pleasant prospect to think that our camp may be overhauled at any time, whenever we happen to be away, and perhaps disappear altogether some dark night, if we happen to be caught out on the bay or down the island. But what to do I don't see, for the life of me,-except to keep as quiet as possible about it."

"I may not be right," suggested Henry Burns, "but my advice would be to do just the opposite,-that is, when you once feel certain that Harvey is hunting for you.

"Tell Harvey," continued Henry, "that you blew up his camp, and how you did it, and why. Tell him what you saw in that cave. Ask him point-blank if he would want the villagers to know what you saw in there. Strike a bargain with him to call it even. He will be glad to do it; whereas, if he finds you and Bob out, without your knowing what he is up to, he will watch night and day for a chance to harm you."

"The fact is," added Henry Burns, as he arose to go, "what with Jack Harvey and Colonel Witham on the war-path after you, you are likely to have quite a lively summer before you get through. So keep your eyes open and look out. And remember, when in trouble, always apply to H. A. Burns, care Colonel Witham-always ready to serve you." And Henry Burns walked away, whistling.

Tom and Bob went about their breakfast preparations, looking rather serious for a time; but a hearty meal made them look at the matter somewhat less seriously.

"Henry Burns is quite apt to be right about things, so the Warrens say,"

commented Tom, after awhile, as they were finishing their meal. "But I guess he likes to talk some, too, just to make an impression. I don't see how Harvey can find out who blew up his cave in a hundred years, if we only keep quiet and don't give it away ourselves."

"I'm not so sure," answered Bob. "Those things do get out."

Jack Harvey, in the meantime, having completed a careful survey of the sh.o.r.e, and either finding or not finding what he sought for, went back to his camp and crew. Toward noon, however, he left his camp, and a little later Tom saw him coming up along the sh.o.r.e.

When he came to where the canoe lay on the beach, Harvey paused and examined it closely. Then, as though to test its weight, he lifted it up on his broad shoulders, and then set it down on the beach again, this time bottom up.

Tom and Bob started down to the sh.o.r.e at this, but, before either they or Harvey had spoken, they had seen plainly that which, perhaps, Harvey had looked for, a long broad scratch upon the bottom of the canoe, near the middle, where the fresh paint had been sc.r.a.ped off.

"Hulloa, there," said Harvey, as they approached. "That's a fine canoe you've got there. Guess I'll have to get the governor to buy me one. I saw your tent yesterday, but didn't have a chance to come around. You fellows got ahead of me, by coming over last night-with the crowd."

"Yes," answered Bob. "We expected to find you all blown into the sea.

What was the matter over at your camp?"

"Why, between you and me," replied Harvey, eying them cautiously as he spoke, "I think some one of the crew did it, as a joke. They're up to that sort of thing, you know. They'd just as lieve do it as not, any one of them. Like as not that young Tim Reardon did it, because I make him lug water, and don't let up on him when he has lazy spells. To tell you the truth, we had a little powder stored away in a hole under a tree, and I guess one of them touched it off."

Harvey tried to speak carelessly; but there was an angry light in his eyes and an expression around his mouth which would not be concealed, and which boded no good for somebody, and this was not lost on Tom and Bob.

"Come up to the camp, won't you?" asked Tom. Harvey first declined, as though it had not been his intention to stop, and then accepted, and the three went toward the tent. On the way there Tom found a chance to say to Bob, "I guess Henry Burns was right, wasn't he, Bob?" And Bob answered, "Yes."

"Snug quarters you have here," said Harvey, as they entered the tent.

"Tight and dry,-and bunks, too. We can't beat these accommodations aboard the _Surprise_. And here's camp-chairs, like a steam-yacht or a cottage.

You'll be having pictures on the walls next, and a carpet on the floor,-and then you won't allow each other to have mud on your boots."

Harvey was still watching them sharply as he spoke, and may have made the last remark with a purpose, inasmuch as the boots of both Tom and Bob were begrimed and smeared with the clay from the bank near Harvey's camp, and their clothes, for that matter, were muddy in spots.

"Sure enough," answered Tom, "we have things as shipshape as we can.

We've got a camp-kit here that can't be beaten on the island. Maybe you would be interested to have a look at it." So saying, Tom deliberately unlocked the big packing-case and threw back the cover.

"There," cried Tom, pointing to the box that had been stolen, "what do you think of that?"

Harvey drew back quickly, and looked as though he were about to strike Tom a blow, while his face flushed angrily. Bob sprang quickly from his seat on one of the bunks, and he and Tom stood confronting Harvey. If the latter had intended to strike a blow, he changed his mind and did not do it. Instead, he gave a half-laugh and said:

"That's what I came up to see you about. The fact is, I have known you fellows blew up our cave ever since I saw your face"-looking at Tom-"at the door of our tent last night. Then I found, too, where your canoe had landed on the edge of the sh.o.r.e, and just where that big scratch was made. The paint is on the rocks yet. Now I don't think you fellows used me square, though I know you did it because you thought we stole your box-"

"Which you did," interrupted Tom.

Again the quick flush in Harvey's face, and again the gesture as though he would strike Tom a blow; but he did not do it, as he had refrained before.

"No, there's where you are wrong," he said; "though I don't deny that one of the crew took it,-not knowing it was yours. They wouldn't one of them take anything from you."

"Which is not true," said Tom, quietly.

This was more than Harvey could stand. With clenched fist, he rushed at Tom, aiming a heavy blow at his face, and crying, as he did so: "I lie, do I? Then take that!"

Tom partially avoided the blow by stepping back and guarding his face with one arm. The blow fell short, striking him near the shoulder. At the same time, however, he tripped over the packing-case, and that, with the force of the blow, sent him over backwards, so that he fell all in a heap in one corner of the tent.

Harvey darted for the door, to make his escape; but Bob sprang at him and the two clinched. Harvey was larger and more than a match for either one of them, and, with a quick twist, threw Bob violently to the floor. But the latter clung to him and brought him down, too. Then, before Harvey could break Bob's hold, Tom had recovered himself and thrown himself upon him. He rolled Harvey over, and the next moment he and Bob had him securely pinned to the floor.

"Now," said Tom, as they held him fast, "we are not going to hurt you, Jack Harvey, because we are no such cowards; but I've got something to say to you which it will be for your advantage to listen to.

"In the first place, let me tell you that you are a coward and as good as a thief. You didn't steal our box because one of your crew did it for you and saved you the trouble; but you knew it was stolen from us, and would have taken it yourself if you had had the chance. You need not tell us that your crew would not steal from us, for we know better, and so do you. In the second place, I want to tell you that we blew up your cave without intending to do more than burn some of the things in it. The rest we took out,-though it doesn't make much difference now what our intentions were.

"And, last of all, let me tell you that neither you nor your crew are going to try to be revenged on us. Why? Because you don't dare to. It wouldn't be healthy for any of you, if it became known in the village what was in that cave, and n.o.body knows that better than you. Not that Bob and I intend to tell, ever, unless you give us cause to. But let me tell you that it won't do for you to play any tricks on us.

"Please don't forget that neither you nor a single one of your crew dares to disturb so much as a rope around this camp. Now you can get up."