"But where is the cork belt?" Dave asked. He was impatient to see that. He realized that baby dresses must be more or less alike, with seldom a distinguishing mark. But the cork belt impressed him with the possibility of being different.
"Here it is," said Mr. Carson.
From amid the contents of the trunk he pulled out a queer object
Dave held it up to get a better view of it. As Mr. Carson had said it was a belt, composed of a number of corks strung together on a strong cord, there being many rows of them, one above the other. The corks were of all sizes, the cord passing through them on the short axis. There were two holes for the arms, and a sort of tape by which the belt could be tied around one.
It was small, clearly made for a child, though for a larger one than Dave could have been at the time he was picked up in the flood.
"I must have rattled around in that?" he said, with a questioning look.
"Yes, it was lapped around you a couple of times," said the ranchman. "But, just as I said, Dave, it isn't much of a clew. They are just common corks."
This was so. There were no marks on the corks, as far as Dave could see, by which any identification could be made. He looked closely at the odd life-preserver.
"I say, Dave, are you coming?" called Mr. Bellmore from without.
"Right away," was the answer.