Doctor Clay could act quickly when the occasion demanded, and inside of ten minutes a searching party was made up, composed of Dave and his chums, Mr. Dale, Horsehair, and several men who chanced to be working around the grounds.
“Oh, I hope we catch him and are able to prove that he blew up the hotel dining-room,” said Phil to Dave.
“So do I, Phil.”
Henry Morrison led the way, and it was not long before the spot was gained where he had seen Wilbur Poole. From that point a path ran from the river back into the woods.
“Maybe he took that path,” suggested our hero, and several thought the same.
“I think we had better scatter,” suggested Mr. Dale, who had been placed in charge by the doctor. “By doing that we can cover a wide range of territory in a comparatively short space of time. And keep as quiet as possible, for should he hear us he will most likely start and run.”
“If he didn’t run when he saw Mr. Morrison,” murmured Buster. “He may be miles away already.”
The crowd separated into pairs, Dave and Phil going together and Roger going with Ben, and Buster with Horsehair. All had armed themselves 262 with sticks, and Mr. Dale carried a pair of handcuffs, and one of the hired men had a rope.
Deeper and deeper into the woods went the party, spread out in a long line. They had examined the river-front and felt fairly certain that the wild man had not left by boat.
“Looks like a wild-goose chase,” remarked Phil, with a sigh, after a half an hour had passed.