“And don’t come to our camp, I pray, looking for any criminal,” said Laura, speaking for the first time.
“Why! I guess not, Ma’am!” cried the sheriff. “Come on, boys. Leave them dawgs tied yere. And we’ll go over the island. It’s purty open timber this end, so he ain’t likely to be near here.”
They had moored the barge. Barnacle had barked himself hoarse. When the sheriff and four of his companions leaped ashore, he put his tail between his legs and scuttled up the hillside again.
At the top he suddenly began to bark once more. He did not face down hill, but seemed distraught about something, or somebody, in the camp.
“Hey!” exclaimed the ugly farmer whom Laura had taken a dislike to the previous day. “That dawg sees something.”
“He is crazy,” spoke up Laura, quickly. “He is like enough barking at our maid.”
“Sure!” rejoined Bobby. “Liz is up there.”
“Come on!” exclaimed the sheriff to his men, and started westward, in the direction Professor Dimp had taken.
“Whom do you suppose the Barnacle is really barking at?” whispered Jess to Laura Belding. “He’d never make all that ‘catouse’ over Liz. In fact, he wouldn’t bark at her at all.” 198
“Hush!” warned Laura, as the party started up the slope toward the camp.