"And some are heavy and some are light. See that? Some are faint impressions in the mushy soil, while some sink in a couple of inches. Some of the deep ones are clean cut, while others show that the foot wobbled in the track."
"There must have been a fat man who was unsteady on his feet," observed the Captain.
"Yes, there was a heavy man, but his tracks are cut sharply in the mud. His step was quick and firm. Now these other deep tracks show a staggering foot. What does that mean?"
"Blessed if I know!" cried the Captain.
"It means, to my mind, that the men who made these deep, wobbly tracks carried a burden into the boat. What do you think that burden was?"
"You will be telling me next that it was a wounded man—perhaps the Lieutenant himself," said the Captain, his face alive with interest.
"It was a wounded man, all right," Ned replied, "but we have no means of knowing whether it was the Lieutenant. See, there are drops of blood close to the margin of the river!"
"You're a genius!" roared the Captain.
"Just observation," Ned said modestly. "There is nothing unusual about the faculty of seeing things. We all draw the same conclusions after the facts are pointed out. So, you see, there was a struggle in the hut, after all, and some one was cut with a knife, for there were no shots fired. As there would have been no fight if the Lieutenant had been in the game, as you express it, the inference is that he was taken prisoner."
"Granted—for the sake of argument!"