Seated as described, the two youths discussed what was the best thing to do. It seemed advisable to return to the point from which they started, that is, near Beartown landing. There was not one chance in a hundred that they would find the Deerfoot there, but such a thing was not impossible. That which made this policy seem wise was the likelihood of again meeting Detective Calvert. The news of the attempted robbery of the Beartown post office would be telegraphed far and wide, and he would be sure to hear of it at Wiscasset. It would not take him and his brother officer long to reach the village, where the lads could hope to see him.
It was certainly a singular coincidence that the launch should be twice stolen in so brief a time, and the owner grimly asked himself whether fate had not ordained that he was to lose it after all.
There was no light in the maze of conjecture that opened before them. Chester suggested an alarming complication.
“The Deerfoot can outspeed any craft in the Maine waters. These burglars must have a hiding place, and we know there is no end to them among the bays, inlets, coves and islands that stud the rivers. Suppose they board the launch and speed away till all pursuit is thrown off the scent—something they can easily do—and then abandon the boat.”
“We shall find her sooner or later, and Calvert will perhaps in this way get on their track.”
“They can avert such danger by sinking her in deep water, where she may not be found for years.”
“I have not thought of that. It looks as if they had the whip-hand. These fellows may have blundered last night, but it was solely through the sudden appearance of Mike on the spot, for they are no fools. If we try to get the best of them we shall get the worst, unless we have the help of Mr. Calvert.”
“And the only way to gain that is to go back to Beartown.”
“So it seems to me. What do you think?” asked the Captain.
“I know of nothing better. Wouldn’t it be well to hit up the pace a little?”