"Sure you didn't throw it over in the bushes down the other side?"
"I guess I know what I did with it," retorted Chunky indignantly.
"Well, it isn't here." Dad was somewhat puzzled by this time. He saw that Stacy was very confident of having left the gun at that particular place, but it could not be found.
"Maybe somebody's stolen it," suggested the boy.
"Nonsense! Who is there here to steal it, in the first place? In the second, how could any one slip in here at the right moment and get away with your rifle?"
"You have no—-no idea what has become of it—-no theory?" asked the
Professor.
"Not the least little bit," replied the guide.
"Most remarkable—-most remarkable," muttered Professor Zepplin. "I cannot understand it."
"We'll look around a bit," announced Dad.
The three men searched everywhere, even going all the way down to the base of the rise on either side, but nowhere did they find the slightest trace of the missing rifle. After they had returned to the summit, Dad, a new idea in mind, went over the rocks and the ground again in search of footprints. The only footprints observable were those of their own party. There was more in the mystery than Dad could fathom.