“Hello yourself!” came back in Don’s voice.
“What’s the shooting about?” demanded Clay.
“Take a run around the boat and see!” Case called back. “There is some one hiding near there! He can’t be very far away.”
“Why don’t you come on down?” asked Don. “Where are you?”
“Looking for the ghost!” Alex called out. “Come up and help.”
Finally Clay, who had made a quick circuit of the shore near the fire, reported that there were tracks of heavy shoes, such footgear as no one but a heavy man would be apt to wear, all around the remains of the fire! He asked the boys to return to the boat, but they advised a close watch and decided to continue their search for the dog.
“Because,” Alex reasoned, “they’ll take him farther away before morning, and, then, we want to see the ghost before he fades away at the coming of the dawn! The ghost with big feet!”
“He’ll fade away before the coming of the dawn if I get a shot at him,” grumbled Case. “He’s too free with our property!”
The boys heard the voice of the dog no more. Below they saw the motor boat blazing with light, the boys stealthily on guard in the cabin. Above, the moonlight flooded the lips of the canyon. To north and south the great river roared away, ever diving deeper into the bowels of the earth, as if to hide its red waters from the light of the sun.
From shelf to shelf, from coulee to coulee, from slope to slope! It was a weary night! Many times they thought they heard the dog calling to them. Once or twice they thought they heard voices. But always investigation of the localities from which the sounds had seemed to come brought no satisfactory result.