oys found the mystery of the stolen twenty
thousand dollars to possess for them a strong personal interest. They
talked over and over again, and with the greatest relish, everything
that had come within their notice in and around the bleak old structure
down there on the Point.

Finally--it was during the Sunday evening supper of cold hard-boiled eggs,
bread and butter, bananas, graham crackers and coffee--that finally, and
at last, Phil Way proposed that a really serious visit be made to the
clubhouse the following morning. Of any person encountered--Mr. Murky
excepted, of course--permission to use the vise and other equipment in
the automobile shed would be asked. This would be a reasonable pretext
for going to the clubhouse grounds. And being on those premises, everyone
should look carefully about for some clue to the stolen money's hiding
place.

It was not easy for Captain Phil to suggest this plan. He was not sure it
was quite square and honorable--"on the level"--as some would say,--but
he called it a stratagem in a worthy cause and so felt better over it.
But really, since the cause was that of helping Chip Slider, as against
such villains as Murky and Grandall, no one could blame Phil, or blame
any of the lads that they welcomed his proposal heartily.

The day had been hot and close. Contrary to the usual condition, also,
the air grew little if any cooler as night came on. A dive from the
projecting log into the lake to cool off was in order then, as the boys
prepared for bed.

"Just goes to show what a nuisance clothes are, anyway," observed Paul
Jones, as he dried himself. He was rejoicing exceedingly that he had
only to jump into his nightshirt to be clothed to all necessary extent,
following his swim. "Heap fine idea if we had clothes for day time as
simple as for night time!" he added.

"Yes sir, it's just such fellows as you, Jones, that would sooner or
later drift right back to the stone age if there weren't more
energetic ones to drag you along forward, making you wear clothes and
things--keeping you civilized," was MacLester's answer. A good-natured
grin accompanied his remarks.

"Well, I s'pose it takes clothes to give some folks an appearance of being
civilized," was Paul's warm rejoinder, yet with utmost good-nature. "But
for my part--well, I'll go on wearing 'em, David, for your sake."

"And it would make your appearance more civilized still if you made more
civil use of your tongue," MacLe