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Rh, for there, not a foot from his nose, were a dozen or more of the stolen cans!

They were piled on the ground at the back of the tent, the corner of a yellow horse-blanket half covering them. Chub squirmed until his head and shoulders were inside the tent, and reached forward. Beyond the cans were two of the strips of bacon, wedged in between them and a bale of hay. Not a sound came from the tent. Noiselessly Chub drew the rest of his body inside and peered around the corner of the bale. The tent was empty. Three beds composed of narrow straw-filled ticks were in sight, a small old-fashioned trunk, cooking utensils, some clothes swinging from the ridge-pole, a couple of empty boxes on top of one of which lay a pack of dirty playing-cards and a pile of harness. Chub smiled his satisfaction and then pondered his next step. If the stolen groceries were here it was plausible to suppose that the money was here, too. Of course it might be in the thief’s pocket, but Chub didn’t believe that Gipsies were in the habit of carrying much money around with them. If only he knew where to look!