“All right, come on,” said Bart, and the Darewell chums started down the hill, in the direction of Lake Superior.
As they emerged upon a bluff, which overlooked the vast body of water, they came to a pause, so impressed were they, even in their anxiety, with the beautiful view that stretched out before them. Under the bright rays of the morning sun the lake sparkled like a sheet of silver.
“I wish we were all safe together again, aboard the Modoc,” remarked Ned, after a moment’s pause.
“Same here,” echoed Bart. “But, if we’re—”
He was interrupted by a sound off to the left. Gazing in that direction the boys saw, coming along the trail toward them, a man and girl. Something about them seemed familiar.
“Mr. Hayward!” cried Ned.
“And his daughter!” added Frank, in a lower voice.
“Well! Well!” exclaimed the man, whose lucky escape from the automobile accident in Darewell, had led to the boys’ acquaintance with him. “If here aren’t my young friends, the Darewell Chums, come to pay me a visit! I’m very glad to see you, but I thought there were four of you.”
“So there are, father,” interrupted Ruth. “Where is Fenn?” she asked, turning quickly to the three boys. “Is he ill—didn’t he come with you?”
“He’s lost!” replied Frank. “We’re hunting for him.”