“Some one must stay here,” he decided. “We don’t want to run the risk of losing our supplies again. If this fellow managed to draw us far enough away from the cabin, there’s no telling what damage he might do. Joe, I think you had better stay here. If you see the man coming this way, fire another shot, and we’ll come a-running.”
“Good idea!” approved Chet. “I think we all ought to separate. Each go in a different direction. If we catch sight of him, whistle!”
Frank quickly directed the search. Joe was to stay at the cabin, Chet was to go to the northern side of the island, Biff was to explore the south. Frank himself was to cut through the trees in the center of the island, emerging on the other side.
They separated.
Frank ploughed through the snow, heading toward the heavy growth of trees at the top of Cabin Island. He soon reached a point from where he could get a good view of the entire island. He could see Biff and Chet industriously exploring the shore lines.
A little distance away, in the snow beneath the trees, he caught sight of a line of fresh footprints.
He picked up the trail at once, and followed the marks in the snow.
They led him in and out among the trees, then veered and seemed to be directed toward the rocks.
“What am I thinking of?” said Frank, to himself. “I’m not following the man’s trail at all. I’m going back on it.”
He turned, and retraced his steps, after a while reaching the place where he had first found the footprints. He went on from there, deeper into the thicket, proceeding cautiously.