"I consider that sound reasoning, Mark," observed the patrol leader, who was never happier than when he found some of his followers displaying good judgment in such matters. "But the boat's gone, and our next duty is to take a look around the bank before we get to trampling things up too much. We ought to make sure of things by finding that marked track again."
"It can be done as easy as turning a handspring," vowed Toby Jones, as all of them immediately spread out, fan-shape, like hounds that had lost the scent temporarily, and were searching for it again.
Hardly half a minute had gone when there was an exultant cry raised.
"Didn't I say so?" demanded Toby, triumphantly; "but I never thought Landy of all fellows'd be the one to find the trail."
"Oh! sometimes queer things do happen in this world," asserted the fat scout, swelling with his triumph; "they say the race ain't always to the swift. But take a look, everybody, and see if I'm right."
They looked and unanimously pronounced Landy's judgment correct. There was the imprint of a shoe, a left shoe in the bargain, beyond doubt, and anyone who had eyes could detect that diagonal mark running across the sole, which Landy had pointed out before as the line of the new leather, placed there while he waited for Hen Condit in the Italian cobbler's shop.
"As plain as the nose on your face, Landy!" admitted Lil Artha, with a trifle of disappointment in his voice, for he had calculated on discovering the tracks himself, and for one who was next door to a greenhorn to do it humiliated the tall scout.
"No personal remarks, please, Lil Artha," said Landy; "I know my nose isn't as prominent as yours, and some others in the crowd, but it answers my purpose all right, and I'm not ashamed of it."
"Well, now we know where we're at," remarked Ted, with a satisfied air, as though it might be a maxim with him to always start right.
"And it's up to us to divide our forces, choose our boats, and make a start," Mark Cummings was saying.