CHAPTER XXXIII.
SQUIRE PAGET'S MOVE.
Let us leave Ralph for a short time and go back to Westville and see what was occurring at that place during his absence. Of course, when the boy did not return in the evening from his trip up Big Silver Lake, Mrs. Nelson was much worried over his absence. She took supper alone, after waiting until eight o'clock for him to make his appearance, and then took a walk down to the bridge where her son was in the habit of tying up.
"Have you seen anything of Ralph?" she asked of Dan Pickley, who sat in the office, counting his tolls for the day.
"No," he returned, shortly, and went on with his counting.
Not wishing to disturb him, the widow said no more. She strained her eyes to see through the gathering darkness, but not a boat that could be the right one appeared in sight.
After waiting nearly an hour she returned to the cottage. She sat up until twelve o'clock, watching and waiting, and went to bed.
"If something had happened they would let me know," she said to herself. "He must have taken out some party and been detained. He will surely come back by to-morrow noon."
But the morrow came, and the morning passed slowly by without any one coming near the distressed woman.
After dinner she could bear the suspense no longer. Dressing up and putting on her bonnet, she started out to walk to Glen Arbor.
On the way she met one of the neighbors who was driving and offered her a seat in his wagon. She accepted the offer gladly, for she was not accustomed to walking a long distance.
"It ain't often you go to Glen Arbor, I reckon," said the neighbor, a farmer named Wilkins.
"No," she replied, "I am going to see what has become of Ralph."
"Ralph! What's the matter with him? Run away?"
"I hope not, Mr. Wilkins. But he did not return last night from a trip on the lake, and I am worried."
"Maybe he couldn't get back because he went too far and the wind died out."
"There was a good breeze all night."
"That's so, widow. Well, I hope you find Ralph all right."
"So do I," returned Mrs. Nelson.
She knew very well where Bill Franchard's boat-house was, and after leaving Mr. Wilkins, walked hither quickly. Luckily, she found Franchard on shore, mending one of his boats.
"Where is Ralph, Mr. Franchard?" she asked, hurriedly.
"That's just what I'd like to know, Mrs. Nelson," replied the boatman. "He ain't showed up since he went off yesterday morning."
"Did you expect him to stay out so long?"
"No, I didn't. I was looking for him in last evening."
"Who did he take out?"
"Two gentlemen, I believe. He made the engagement himself. I don't know who they were."
"Have you any idea where he can be?"
"They sailed up the lake, so Jack Harper says. Maybe they might be puttin' in the time around the islands. Sometimes these sportsmen don't care to come home at dark, but want the fun of camping out over night."
This last remark afforded Mrs. Nelson some relief. If the supposition was correct, Ralph might be perfectly safe.
"I hope he comes back soon," she said. "Would you mind if I stay around the boat-house for a while?"
"Why, no, Mrs. Nelson; make yourself at home," returned Franchard, heartily. "We ain't got very good accommodations here, but such as they are you are welcome to."
The widow sat down and watched the boatman mending his craft. Thus an hour passed. Then came a hail from the water.
"Ahoy there, Franchard!"
The boatman looked up and saw a young fellow in a rowboat.
"Hullo, Evans!" he called back.
"Say, one of your boats is ashore over to Mack's meadow," went on the youth in the rowboat.
"One of my boats! Which one?"
"The Minnie. I saw her as I came past, and I thought I'd tell you about her. She isn't tied up there."
"My gracious! what can it mean?" cried Mrs. Nelson. "That was the boat Ralph had, wasn't it?"
"It was," returned Franchard. "Jump in this rowboat, Mrs. Nelson, and we'll go over to the meadow and take a look at the boat."
He ran for a pair of oars, and soon the two were on the water. Mack's meadow was less than half a mile away, and Franchard, who was an expert rower, soon pulled the boat to it.
"There is the Minnie, sure enough!" he exclaimed, as they rounded a little point.
And he pointed to where the sloop lay half-hidden in the water and high meadow grass.
"Is—is any one on board?" asked Mrs. Nelson, in a trembling tone.
"Not a soul."
"Oh, Mr. Franchard, what do you suppose has happened?" she burst out.
"I can't say, ma'am. Wait till I go on board and take a look around."
Franchard was soon on the sloop. Everything appeared to be in order, although there were the marks of muddy feet on the flooring and on the seats. Martin and Toglet had taken good care that no clew that should lead to their identity should be left behind.
"Do you see anything belonging to Ralph?" asked Mrs. Nelson.
"Not a thing."
"Do you suppose he left the boat here?"
The boatman shook his head slowly.
"I wish I could say yes, Mrs. Nelson," he said. "But I don't think so. It's all wet around here, and there would be no sense in it when there are so many dry landing places nearby. Most likely he landed somewhere else and the boat drifted away from him."
The widow gave a start.
"Oh, might they not have landed on one of the islands and the sloop got away from them?" she cried.
"By creation! that may be it!" ejaculated Bill Franchard. "I never thought of it before."
"I wish we could find out. I'm greatly worried. Something tells me that Ralph is not safe—that something has happened to him."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mrs. Nelson. I'll take the Ariel and sail up to the islands and take a look around."
"Will you go this afternoon?"
"If you wish it, yes."
"I do, very much."
"Then I won't waste another minute. Maybe you would like to go along?"
"I would," returned Mrs. Nelson, impelled by a fear she could not banish.
Franchard lost no time in towing the sloop back to the boat-house. Ten minutes later he and the widow were sailing up the lake as fast as the wind would carry them.
It was well on toward evening when the islands were reached.
"I'll give them a call if they are anywhere about," said Franchard, and he yelled many times at the top of his lungs.
No reply came back, and after sailing around for some time they came to anchor beside Three Top Island.
"If they landed anywhere, they landed here," said the boatman. "So as long as we are in the vicinity we may as well take a look around."
As luck would have it they had reached shore close to the bottom of the cliff. As they leaped on the rocks, Mrs. Nelson gave a start.
"What is it?" cried her companion, quickly.
"Oh, Mr. Franchard, look!" screamed the poor woman. "It is Ralph's fishing towel, and it has blood upon it!"
And as she spoke, she held up the object.
"You are sure it is his?"
"I am positive. Oh, I am sure something dreadful has happened."
"Perhaps not, Mrs. Nelson. Let us hope for the best, and search further."
Mrs. Nelson heaved a long sigh. Her heart was heavy within her breast.
The two searched around until nightfall, but nothing more was found.
At last they returned to Glen Arbor, and after another inquiry there for Ralph, the poor widow made her way back slowly to her home.
She was all but prostrated, and all that night paced the rooms, watching and waiting in vain for her son's return.
The news of Ralph's disappearance spread, and several parties went out to hunt for him. Strange to say, one of the parties contained Squire Paget.
The squire went up to the islands in a private boat of his own. He remained there probably half an hour. Then he returned and called at the Nelson cottage.
"It is too bad, Mrs. Nelson," he said. "But I have, I am afraid, very bad news for you."