"Followed us? You are mistaken. Did you see anything of Walter
Perkins, Mr. Thomas?"
The guide shook his head.
"Did not go with you? I think you must be in error," spoke up the
Professor, with quick concern.
"He certainly was not with us," insisted Ned. "I did not even see him leave his tent."
"Why, he must have gone. With my own eyes I saw him running after you," urged Professor Zepplin in a tone of great anxiety.
"Guide, get torches at once. The boy surely is lost."
Alarmed, the boys needed no further incentive to spur them to instant action. Grasping fagots from the fire, they lined up, standing with anxious faces, awaiting the direction of Lige Thomas, to whom they instinctively looked to command the searching party.
"Wait a minute," commanded Lige in a calm voice. "Which way did you see him go, Professor?"
"Let me reflect. I am not sure—yes, I am. I distinctly remember having seen him run obliquely to the left there. It was just after I had lost my tent——"
"Over that way?" asked Lige, pointing.