"It can't be that they've deserted!" exclaimed his father.
Mr. Grigsby shook his head, and smiled.
"Scarcely," he said. "See here. I've been waiting to show you."
He waded in knee deep, pulled up the pole and returned with it. A fragment of grass rope still hung to it. The rope had been cut!
"I think," said Mr. Grigsby, slowly, "that we've our three friends to thank for this. Looks to me as though somebody had cut the rope and set the canoe adrift, with our men in it."
"Then they're liable to be miles down the river!"
"Just so, baggage and all."
"We can't wait," asserted Mr. Adams. "If we wait we run a good chance of missing the steamer. I wouldn't have those three rascals get there first for a thousand dollars. How about another canoe? Have you tried?"
"Not yet. I didn't know whether you wanted to leave your baggage."
"Certainly I'll leave it. It can follow us. We can't stay here long and run the risk of cholera. If you'll look for a canoe I'll see if we can't hire passage with some of these other parties. Here, gentlemen!" he called, to a canoe about to push out, and not heavily loaded. "Got any room to spare?"