"We can't trace them in the dark," remarked Mont, as they stopped for consideration.
"We've got to do it," declared the young machinist; "I'm going to find Deb if it takes a week."
"Then I'm with you, Jack. Come on."
"It runs in my mind that they must have taken that road," said Jack, as he pointed to the one that led down the river.
"Well, we might as well take that as any other," returned Mont. "He must certainly have carried her in his arms, and--well, I declare! Isn't that her hair ribbon?" and he picked up a streamer of brown from the road-side.
Jack examined it.
"You're right," he replied, "We are on the direct way to overtake them. Come!"
Both started on a run. They soon passed the falls, and came to a clear spot on the bank of the river.
Mont uttered a cry.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed, pointing out in mid-stream. "There they are in a boat; Corrigan is making for Blackbird Island!"