But the sun was nearing the tree-tops, the canoe was a mile away, and after one more look around, Old Cy started for it. There was no use in following this trail now, for it led into the tangled swamp, and so, skirting this until a point opposite the canoe was reached, Old Cy and Ray then plunged into it.
Twilight had begun to shadow this vale ere the canoe was reached. And here was another surprise, for the canoe was found turned half over, and on its broad oval bottom was a curious outline of black mud. The light was not good here. A fir-grown ledge shadowed the spot; but as Old Cy stooped to examine this mud-made emblem, it gradually took shape, and he saw–a skull and cross bones!
“Wal, by the Great Horn Spoon!” he exclaimed, “I never s’posed a pirate ’ud fetch in here! An’ he’s swiped our muskrats and mink,” he added, as he looked under the canoe, “durn him!”
Then the bold bravado of it all occurred to Old Cy. The theft was doubtless made by whosoever had taken their otter, and not content with robbing them, he had added insult.
“I s’pose we’d orter be grateful he left the paddles ’n’ didn’t smash the canoe,” Old Cy continued, turning it over. “I wonder who’t can be?”
One hasty look around revealed the same boot-marks in the soft earth near the stream, and then he and Ray launched their craft and started for home.
“I’m goin’ to foller them tracks to-morrer,” Old Cy said, when they were entering the lake and a light in the cabin just across reassured him. “It may be a little resky, but I’m goin’ to find out what sorter a neighbor we’ve got.”
CHAPTER XVI
“When a man begins talkin’ ’bout himself, it seems as tho’ he’d never run down.”–Old Cy Walker.