Fleet was the first to notice a skiff containing two men, well out in the middle of the lake and making on a tangent for the east shore.

“Look!” he cried. “What’ll you bet that those are not Dave Higgins’ robbers?”

“I don’t think that would be a safe bet,” said Bert. “What do you think, Chot?”

“They are too far away for me to judge accurately, but from this distance I should say there was a marked resemblance.”

“I wish Higgins were here,” said Tom.

“Well, it’s two miles to his place. Too far to go, because the men would then have too great a start,” said Chot. “I believe the best plan will be to overtake them, make sure they are the ones we suspect, and if so, capture them and hold them until we can communicate with Higgins or the authorities. What do you say?”

All of the boys expressed great eagerness to do this, so they quickened their gait until the canoes were fairly flying through the water. It did not matter now if the perspiration ran down their faces, into their eyes, and down their backs inside their shirts; they did not feel the exertion with an adventure in prospect. No real American boy does.

The figures in the skiff were nearly a mile away, but the comrades soon cut this distance down to three-quarters, and headed for a spot that would cross the path of the other craft within the next ten or fifteen minutes, if the men held their present course.

The men in the boat had evidently not noticed the boys in the canoes, and when they finally did discover them, the canoes were between them and the shore for which they were heading.

They stopped rowing for a moment and the boys could see them holding a consultation. There was no doubt now but that the men were the suspicious-looking characters they had seen on the shore the previous night.

“Wonder what they’re going to do now,” said Fleet.

“They’re trying to decide whether we are interested in them or not,” Chot replied. “I think they are waiting in the hope that we will cross their course and continue on up the lake. Shows they don’t want to come to close quarters with us.”

“What will we do—wait for them?”

“No; for we’re apt to find that they can wait as long as we. I think we had better do away with any deception. They suspect that we are watching them, so let’s paddle over there and tell them just what we are here for.”

“Yes,” said Tom, “for these are the parties we’re after. Look at the size of that fellow at the oars. He certainly answers the description given by Mrs. Higgins, who saw him as he was getting away with the money.”

So the canoes were turned and the boys paddled easily across the intervening distance.

“Let’s surround them,” said Chot in a low tone, and the canoes separated until they were approaching the men in the skiff from every side.

Five boys with determined looks on their faces are no mean antagonists, especially when no matter in what direction you turn you find one of them, and the men in the skiff were evidently perplexed.

“Hello!” said Chot, by way of greeting.

“Hello, yourself!” returned the smaller of the men. “What do you think you are doing?”

“We’re surrounding you,” said Chot, “and now we’ll ask you to give an account of yourselves.”

“Well, just ask away, sonny.”

“Yes, don’t be bashful. If there’s anything we can tell you, don’t fail to mention it,” said the big man.

He was apparently resting easily on his oars, but Chot noticed that he was in a position where he could send the skiff spinning ahead in an instant.

Pod, as if guessing what was passing in Chot’s mind, pushed his canoe around until he was directly behind the man at the oars, and straight in the path of the skiff.

“To make a long story short,” said Chot, “we didn’t know who you were when you ran into our camp on the lake shore last night.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the smaller man. “We’ve never seen you fellows before.”

“That tale won’t go. We saw you last night, and we’d know you again if we met you in China, so there’s no use trying to evade the issue. What is more, we know you are the men who robbed Dave Higgins’ house two nights ago.”

At this the men burst into a laugh, but it was an unnatural laugh, and could not deceive the keen ears of the boys from Winton.

“Young man,” said the bigger of the men, “if it wasn’t so funny, your talk would be impertinent. Why, we live at Westport, farther up the lake. This is Henry Skidmore and I am William Truesdale. We are merchants, and we have been taking a little outing.”

“That being the case,” said Chot, “of course you won’t object to going to Westport with us and giving proof of what you say?”

“That’s asking too much. Westport is five miles from here, at least, and we would be losing too much time. However, you boys can stop off there as you pass and inquire as to our characters.”

“Yes, we’ll do that—I don’t think!” said Fleet, rather contemptuously. “The best thing we can do with these men, Chot, is to take them to Dave Higgins so his wife can identify them.”

“I think so, too,” said Bert. “That’s the easiest way out of the matter.”

“Now, look here,” said the big man, glowering at them from under his heavy eyebrows, and speaking in a voice that rumbled like a smoldering volcano, “this has gone far enough. We’re bound for the east shore over there, and you will follow us at your peril.”

“We’re going to hand you over to the authorities, and it may as well be on the east shore as anywhere,” said Chot.

“Then look out for us,” warned the man at the oars. He sent the skiff shooting ahead as he spoke, rammed squarely into Pod’s canoe, upsetting it and throwing the little fellow into the water. The skiff shuddered from the force of the impact, careened to one side, righted itself, and sped on.

“After them!” shouted Fleet, “I’ll attend to Pod.”

Following his suggestion, Chot, Tom and Bert started in pursuit of the skiff, which they had no difficulty in overtaking, because they could paddle all around any man with a heavy skiff and an ordinary pair of oars.

Fleet ran his canoe over to where Pod, grinning good naturedly, was clinging to the bottom of the upturned craft.

“Got me that time,” said the little fellow, “but I guess a bath won’t hurt me.”

With the aid of Fleet the canoe was righted. Then Pod swam to where his suitcase and paddle were floating on the surface of the lake, and pushed them toward the canoe. Then, climbing aboard while Fleet steadied the craft, the boys set out in pursuit of their chums.

In the meantime the other boys had come up with the men in the skiff, and keeping out of their way, ran alongside so that they could land first, and intercept the suspects as they came ashore.

Finally, the man at the oars grew angry, and pulling a revolver from his pocket, leveled it at Bert, who was the nearest the skiff.

“Now you drop that paddle or I’ll plug you, kid,” he said. “This foolishness has gone far enough.”

So interested were the men in finding out what Bert would do in the face of such an argument, they forgot Chot who was on the other side of them, and who, with his usual quick-wittedness, lost no time in acting. Dropping his paddle, he seized his suitcase, and standing erect in the canoe, threw it with all his might straight at the head of the man with the revolver.

An earthquake could not have been more surprising or more destructive at that moment. True to its aim went the suitcase. It contained Chot’s best suit of clothes and other wearing apparel, but this did not enter into the argument at that time. The case struck the big man on the side of the head. His grasp on the revolver loosened and the weapon fell with a splash into the lake. The big man, stunned by the blow, after a futile attempt to regain his balance, followed, capsizing the skiff and throwing his companion into the water.

“Hurrah!” cried Tom.

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” echoed Fleet and Pod, who came up at this moment.

The boys now had their adversaries where they wanted them—at a decided disadvantage.

“Take that skiff, Fleet, and tow it out of the way,” ordered Chot. “You, Pod, pick up my suit case. Now, boys, let’s attend to our friends.”

The men were swimming around in an effort to keep afloat, afraid to approach the canoes for fear of further violence.

“You’ll have to help me, boys,” cried the smaller of the men, suddenly. “My friend’s losing his strength. Guess that blow on the head sort o’ queered him.”

At first the boys thought this was merely a feint to gain time, but one look at the big man made them change their minds. His eyes were closed, his face was pale, and he was gasping for breath.

Fortunately, they were not far from the east shore now, and a sandy beach stretched out into the lake. With the help of the boys in the canoe they towed the apparently unconscious man into shallow water, and helped get him up on the grass under some trees where an effort was made to revive him.

On the side of his head was a big lump, caused by the blow from the suit case. A feeling of pity stole over Chot that he had been forced to adopt such measures, but with Bert threatened by a revolver, he felt that he had been fully justified.

Fleet brought a cup of water from a well in a nearby pasture and the boys bathed the temples of the big man, and forced some of the cool water down his throat. After a few minutes he gasped and opened his eyes, and a little later was able to sit up against a tree.

As soon as Chot found that the injured man was coming around, he sent Pod to a farmhouse which could be seen in the distance, to find if they had the rural ’phone service, and if so, to communicate with Dave Higgins and ask him to come at once with some officers and take charge of the prisoners. Pod found the ’phone and after some little trouble succeeded in getting his man. He explained the adventure on the lake, and Higgins agreed to come right up with Hank and a couple of constables.

In the interval, the boys made the injured man comfortable, bathing his head with witch hazel. Both he and the other man, as well as Pod, took this occasion to shed their clothes and spread them in the sun to dry, wrapping themselves in blankets in the meantime.

It was nearly noon when Higgins arrived with the officers. The men were searched and in the big man’s pocket most of the Higgins’ money was found contained in the little sack in which Higgins had always kept it. The men confessed to the robbery, pleading hard luck and starvation. They said good-bye good-naturedly, as Higgins and the officers led them to the boat and started with them for Chimney Point.

The boys ate their lunch on the shore, after which they pushed off again, touched Westport in the middle of the afternoon for ice cream soda, and camped on the west shore near Split Rock Mountain for the night.