“I think I’d have a job finding her myself,” I laughed. “It’s so dark I can hardly see a thing!”
We lowered the sails and pushed the Mary as deep into the bushes as possible. Then we jumped ashore, tied fast, and hurried back to the spot where the Catch Me had been beached.
“There ought to be some tracks in the mud,” I said. “See how soft the rain has made the soil.”
“It would be easy enough to follow the man if it wasn’t for the rocks,” returned Ford. “But we will do what we can, and that, too, without waste of time. It will be a feather in our cap if we capture the whole crowd.”
“Here are footprints,” I went on. “Do you see, they lead from this place where the Catch Me struck over those rocks to the north?”
“That’s so. Let us see if we can catch them again beyond the rocks. Come, don’t make any more noise than you can help.”
We walked on with our heads bent close to the ground. When we reached the spot where the rocks ended and the marshland began, we could for the moment distinguish nothing.
“It’s lost,” said Ford soberly.
“No; here it is,” I whispered, “and quite fresh, if I am not mistaken.”