The Indian shot past the break in the shore line like a flash. Ben and Bob followed his directions. As they did so, they noted an island in the river. In its center stood a large log-framed building.
“That’s queer,” remarked Ben.
“Yes,” observed Bob, “it looks like some fort.”
“I wonder what there is to fear about it!”
“Can’t guess. I saw no one about, did you?”
“No,” replied Ben, “it looked deserted to me.”
“Well, our guide is going ahead. Let us follow him.”
Half a mile further on, the Indian turned into a maze of high willow bushes. Abruptly these ended in a kind of a swale. It was dry now, and they crossed it without difficulty. Then, as Ben and Bob came to the middle of it, they halted dead short.
“Hello!” projected Bob, “an airship.”
“But not ours!” cried Ben, lost in wonderment, “not the Dart.”