The brothers walked along the garden path that ran toward the lake,
and when Don, who was leading the way, stepped upon the jetty he
missed something at once. The canoe was gone. They had not been near
the jetty for a week, and the last time they were there the boat was
all right. It could not have got away without help, for it was firmly
tied to a ring in the jetty by the chain, which served as a painter,
and even if that had become loosened the canoe would have remained
near its moorings, for there was no current in the lake to carry it
from the shore. Beyond a doubt, it had been stolen. Don would not
have felt the loss more keenly if the thief had taken his fine
sail-boat. The canoe was almost as old as he was, and in it he and
Bert had taken their first ride on the lake and captured their first
wounded duck.

"It's gone," said Don, after he and Bert had looked all around the
lake as far as their eyes could reach, "and that's all there is of
it. But we'll not give up our trip. We'll go in the sail-boat."

The sail-boat had been dismantled, and the masts, sails, rudder and
everything else belonging to her had been stored in the shop under
cover. While Bert was gone after the oars, Don drew the boat up to
the jetty, and having stowed the guns away in the stow-sheets, he got
in himself and took another survey of the lake to make sure that the
canoe was nowhere in sight. It was hard to give it up as lost.

Bert came back in a few minutes, and having shipped the oars shoved
off and pulled down the lake. A quarter of an hour afterward they
landed on the beach in front of Godfrey's cabin. They found David
wandering listlessly about in the back yard with his hands in his