“Let’s look for Mr. Big Gabe without delay.”
Frank took the lead, and they went in search of the big hermit, trundling their wheels or carrying them, as was necessary.
The modern bicycle is so light, although it is strong and stanch, that it may be carried almost anywhere, and so the task of taking the wheels along was not as difficult as it might have been.
Within half an hour they came in sight of Big Gabe’s hut, which lay on the shore of the little cove out of which the girl had sped in the light canoe.
“It was from this very spot that I first saw that building,” said Frank. “I’ll never forget it. Bart Hodge was with me. When we drew nearer, Big Gabe himself came out and threatened to shoot us, thinking we were trying to steal his boat, or something of that sort.”
“Where is the boat now?”
“There it is, down where the tree overhangs the lake. See?”
They could see the single mast and stern of the boat.
“Good luck!” cried Rattleton. “With the aid of that, we won’t do a thing but make a lively cruise across the lake, for the wind is rising, and we’ll have a fair breeze.”
Frank was looking steadily toward the hut, and there was something like a frown on his face, which his companion observed.