So they followed the lake shore for a considerable distance farther than Tom and Bert had gone the previous evening. They climbed a high hill, that gave a good view of the lake, but, strain their eyes as they could, they had no glimpse of the Tag.
“They’ve either got her well hidden, or else they have sunk her,” was Tom’s despairing comment.
“Oh, maybe we’ll find her,” said Jack, more cheerfully.
“Say, I’ve just thought of something!” exclaimed Bert.
“What is it?” his chums asked him in a chorus.
“It’s this! That old hermit must have some sort of a boat. He never could get on the other side of the lake, where we are camped, and over here again as quickly as he does without crossing in a boat. I believe he must have some sort of a craft hidden in the river near the mill.”
Silence followed Bert’s advancement of his theory, and then Tom exclaimed:
“By Jove! old man, I believe you’re right. Why didn’t we think of that before? Of course he has a boat! He never could get around the way he does if he didn’t have. And it’s up to us to find it. Come on back. We’ll walk along the river bank until we get to the mill. Then we’ll look for the boat.”
Buoyed up by new hope, they started back, and, proceeding cautiously, they soon were below, and opposite, the ancient mill.