"Is that your dog?" asked Sammy.
"Did he make that noise?" inquired Frank.
"Yes. What did you think it was—a ghost?" Mr. Jessup wanted to know. Once more he looked strangely at the boys.
"We—we thought," began Bob, and then he glanced at Sammy, as if asking him to explain the thoughts of his chums.
"Oh, you thought maybe it was the mystery; is that it?" Mr. Jessup wanted to know. "No, it isn't that. The mystery, if that's what I am to call it, doesn't make that much noise. It's a very quiet sort of a mystery; the one in my camp."
The boys were puzzled. Clearly there was more than one queer thing, to be gotten to the bottom of, on Pine Island.
The dog was frisking about, soon making friends with the boys.
"Quiet now, Maybe," cautioned the hunter. "We can't scare up anything to-day. Down, sir!"
"Is—is his name Maybe?" asked Bob, thinking there might be a joke attached to the animal's title.
"It is," said Mr. Jessup. "You see I call him Maybe because when we go out hunting—he and I—maybe we'll have luck, and—maybe we won't. It's been mostly not, of late, though maybe my luck will change, now that you boys have come.
"But come. Tell me what you thought it was when you heard the dog make a noise in the bushes."
"And then will you tell us what the mystery is?" asked Sammy.
"Of course. I'll tell you first, if you like. To be brief I've been missing things from my camp—food mostly, though the other night one of my best blankets was taken. And the funny part of it is that I can't get a trace of the thief. Things disappear when I'm away from camp, and sometimes when I'm asleep. It's all quite strange, so that's why I call this Camp
