On a table were the remains of a meal, as though it had been hastily abandoned, and the condition of the food indicated that it had been there several hours, if not days. The bread was hard and dry, and many flies swarmed over the food.
“Looks as though he’d gone,” said Bob, in a low voice.
“It does look like a deserted camp,” agreed Jerry. “And yet, there are his nets.”
[CHAPTER XXII]
SEARCHING
Silently the boys stood in the deserted cabin. For a moment it seemed as though they had come to the end of the trail—that they were up against a stone wall, and could go no farther. They had counted so much on meeting their old friend that not to find him was something of a shock. Jerry was, perhaps, the most disappointed of all.
True, he harbored a slight feeling of resentment against the scientist for the manner in which he had acted in regard to the yellow clay—or, rather, the manner in which Jerry feared his friend might have acted.
But, the more Jerry thought it over, the more convinced he was that his mother was right, and that the professor had not been, and never could be, guilty of any mean or underhand act.
So, in a measure, Jerry was prepared to forgive Dr. Snodgrass, though, as a matter of fact, there could be no forgiveness when there had been no wrong done, and no accusation made.