“What were they?”
“Stone-boat,” sententiously replied Mr. Watson.
“Stone-boat?” repeated Bob.
“Yes. A stone-boat is a sort of platform of heavy planks nailed crossways to two logs. It’s easy to roll a big stone on this, as it’s up only a few inches from the ground. Then you hitch some horses to the front end, and pull the stone-boat along. It’s an easy way of hauling heavy weights over dry ground. Of course, when there’s snow you can call it a stone-sled if you like. But that’s what made the marks you saw.”
“And did they drag the professor on a stone-boat?” was Jerry’s question.
“I think not,” and the foreman shook his head. “It was a pretty big stone-boat, to judge by the marks. Most likely someone has been building a sort of wall around a water hole, and had to haul the stone quite a way. I don’t think it had anything to do with the professor.”
The search was renewed early the next morning, and kept up for two days without success. There was no trace of the professor and none of the rustlers. A careful examination was made of the land lying to the west of the ravine, but nothing was revealed that would help solve the mystery.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to give up,” regretfully remarked the foreman after the third day, when their provisions were almost gone. “We’ve made a good search. They’ve either—well, done away with the poor professor somehow, carried him far off, or else they’re hiding with him in some cave in these mountains. And the land knows there are so many we’d never be able to search them all. We did go through a few.”
There seemed nothing else to do, and the cavalcade slowly wended its way down the mountain. The boys felt as though they were coming away from the funeral of their dear friend. It was like leaving him behind.