In the morning the men searched for the bodies below the falls, but their search was unrewarded.
“Hans,” said Frank Merriwell, earnestly, “you did one bright thing this trip, even though you did try to roast dynamite. You caught enough of the conversation of those two villains to suspect that they were up to deviltry, and your warning saved our lives. Had we slept on the raft, not one of us could have escaped.”
“Vale,” said Hans, proudly, throwing out his chest and strutting, “I alvays knowed you had a great head on me. A lots more vos dot head in than I know apout.”
“Why don’t you use insect powder?” suggested Browning.
“Oh, vot vos der madder mitt you!” exploded the Dutch boy, fiercely. “You don’d ask any fafors uf me, do I? Vale, vy don’d I shut up!”
“You’re touchy.”
“Gentlemen,” said Fred Forest, “I believe we all have much to be thankful for, as we are still living. Mike Sullivan was a bad man, and he has gone to his just deserts.”
“And there is a pleasant side to the taking off of Mr. Sullivan,” said Diamond, with undisguised satisfaction. “I believe it was the hand of Heaven that reached out and cut his wicked life short by bringing him to the doom he had planned for others.”
“I know whom you are thinking about, Jack,” smiled Frank.