There was a little indention here—a tiny cove. The shore was shelving, and of sand and gravel. Chess pointed silently to the unmistakable marks of a boat’s bow in several places.
“That boat has been here more than once,” he whispered.
Ruth breathed “Yes,” but said no more.
Up-stream of the cove was a great mass of rock—not one rock, but several huddled together and the cracks between overgrown with brush and vines. Chess brought into use the electric torch again.
He shot the spotlight into the crannies. Was there a path there between two of the big boulders? He drew Ruth’s attention to it with a touch on her arm. She saw that some of the bushes were broken—the vines torn away and dead.
“Somebody has been here,” she murmured.
“Of course. That is what we came to find,” said the young man. “We are on the verge of a discovery, Ruth.”
“I hope we are not on the verge of trouble,” she returned, in the same low tone.
“Don’t have a bit of fear,” he told her, in a louder voice.
He was about to mention the loaded pistol in his pocket; then thought better of it. But he went ahead, venturing into the narrow passage between the two boulders.