But the dog at his slowest traveled so fast that the boys had to trot to keep pace with him. His master by common consent took the lead, with Alvin, Chester, Mike and the others at his heels. Zip would have drawn away from them all had not his master sharply restrained him. The doctor was well to the rear, in order to keep company with his wife.
The hound went straight toward the water, but a few paces away turned to the left, taking a course which if continued would lead him to the bungalow. This was kept up for more than a hundred yards, when he abruptly stopped and throwing up his head looked off over the lake, without emitting any sound.
The mother with a moan staggered and would have fallen had she not been caught in the arms of her husband.
“That means she is drowned!” faintly whispered the stricken wife. “O Wilson! I cannot bear it!”
“No, my dear; he has gone forward again; be brave; hope is still left.”
Zip now led the company along the beach, at the same steady trot, with his master almost near enough to grasp his collar, and checking him now and then when he went too fast. There could be no doubt that he was following the scent, from which nothing could divert him.
But whither was it leading?
The run was a long one, always within a few paces of the water, until a point was reached opposite the path which led to the cabin of Uncle Elk. Here, to the astonishment of every one, the dog turned off and went up the slope.
“What can that mean?” was the question which each one asked himself.
And with more amazement than before, the procession of pursuers saw Zip follow the path across the clearing to the door of the cabin, where he stopped, threw up his nose and bayed. It was notice that he had reached the end of the trail.