Frank swung the boat around toward the island. The wind, however, was against them and he could make little speed. He was obliged to tack about for some time, while the others speculated impatiently on the reason for Joe’s signal.
“Just when we need speed, the wind is against us!” groaned Biff.
“Perhaps the fellow will clear out before we can get back.”
“Not if I know it,” said Frank grimly. “We’ll come around on the other side of the island, and if he is making a getaway we can head him off.”
The boat seemed to labor slowly forward at a snail’s pace. Anxiously, the boys peered toward the island.
They could see no one.
“Perhaps the shot didn’t scare him away,” said Chet hopefully.
They circled around until at last they had a full view of the side of the island on which the stolen supplies had been hidden. The ice was bare. The hillside was bleak. There was no sign of any human being.
The boys brought their craft around until they were close to the rocks. They could see footprints in the snow.
“There was somebody here, all right,” said Frank, in excitement.