“They’re both heading for the same place, wherever that is, if that’s any help to you,” remarked Bart.
“Yes,” spoke Fenn, “it may indicate something,” and he looked at the big reptiles, who were crawling along.
“They’re going in the same way as the one was you got,” declared Frank, and the others confirmed this.
For some minutes Fenn observed the movements of the turtles, until they disappeared under some bushes. Then he straightened up and said:
“Well, I don’t believe that mysterious man is in this vicinity, and certainly none of these turtles is wearing a diamond bracelet. I admit I’m away off on that, fellows. But there’s something queer here, and I’m going to get at the bottom of it. It isn’t natural for turtles to be out so plentiful this time of year, and there must be some cause for it.”
“Fenn, you can theorize about turtles all you like, but I want my supper,” called Ned.
“Same here,” came from Frank. “Dish it up, cook!”
Thereupon Fenn gave over watching the turtles, and, a little later, seated cozily in the tent, the chums partook of a supper of canned baked beans, with hard-tack or pilot biscuit, and coffee. Then they sat around, discussing various matters, from the railroad accident to their arrival in camp.
Cots were provided, with plenty of blankets, so they would not suffer from cold, and as an additional precaution a small fire was kept going in the small, sheet-iron, wood-burning stove, which they had brought along to warm the sleeping tent.