With darkness closing in swiftly, Flash lost all sense of bearing and clung doggedly to the shore. To the rear, the sky was red with leaping flames. Ahead, there was nothing to guide him.
Blindly he staggered on. And then, through the trees, he caught the gleam of a light shining from a cabin window. He had reached the lodge!
The clearing opened up ahead of him. Finding himself on Rascomb’s property, Flash tempered his approach with caution. Save for the light, there was no sign of anyone about the place.
Reaching the dock, he counted the boats and bent to examine them. The one which Doyle and Rascomb had used was tied to a post with a charred rope.
“They returned safely, all right,” he muttered, “and they’re figuring they’re well rid of me!”
Flash had taken no time to consider his next move. But sober reflection now convinced him it would be folly to confront Doyle and Rascomb in his present weakened condition. At best, it would be two against one. His wisest course was to go into town and tell his story to the authorities.
Walking unsteadily, he made his way to the road where the News-Vue truck had been parked hours before. It was gone.
As Flash stood leaning against a tree, debating, the door of the lodge slammed shut. A dark figure moved down the gravel path toward him.
“That may be Rascomb coming now,” he thought.
Quickly he stepped behind the protecting trunk of the giant birch, and waited.