"See him?" questioned Scudder.
"No."
Uric knelt and looked down; Beneath the old wharf it was dark and slimy, with the running tide swashing against the green spiles. The sound of the water sent a chill over Scudder.
"Hey, boy!" called Glennon. "Where are you?"
His voice echoed hollow and ghostly beneath the wharf. There was no answer.
"This is bad!" said the Hudsonville chap, showing alarm. "I’m afraid he’s gone!"
"I’m afraid so myself," confessed Uric, a sensation of horror coming upon him. "But we’re not to blame."
"We may be blamed, just the same."
"Why?"
"Because we were chasing him. Hey, boy! boy! Answer, and we’ll help you out."