The remainder of the distance proved easier traveling, and ten minutes later our hero stood 225 on the island. It was now raining steadily, and the darkness of the storm had settled everywhere.
“I guess the best thing I can do is to move right around the shore of this island,” he reasoned. “By doing that I am bound to strike one of the camps, sooner or later.”
He moved along as rapidly as the rocky shore of Moosetail Island permitted. He had to proceed with care, for there were many dangerous pitfalls.
At length his heart was gladdened by the sight of a rude log cabin, set in the trees a little back from the water. He hurried to it and found the door and window closed. Evidently the spot was deserted.
“Nobody here,” he murmured, and his heart sank for the moment, for he could see that the camp had not been used for a long time. Then he went on, the rain in the meanwhile coming down harder than ever. The downfall made him think of the dam that was said to be weak. What if the present storm should make that structure give way?
“I wish we were all out of this,” he murmured. “I wonder if it would do any good to call?”
He set up a yell and listened, and then he yelled again. From a long distance came an answering cry. 226
“Hurrah, that’s somebody, anyway!” he exclaimed. “I hope it was one of the boys!”
He stumbled in the direction of the cry. Then he yelled once more, and again came the answering call. But now Dave was sure it was a man’s voice, and he was somewhat disappointed.
“Where are you?” he called out, a moment later. “Where are you?”