For an instant there was only the sweep of the dark water against the Rambler and the call of birds high up in the sky—so high up that the latest pencils of light from the setting sun touched their wings and turned them into burnished gold. Then a long “Ha-l-o-o” came from down the dark river. In a moment the sound was repeated, louder than before.
“That’s Alex!” cried Case. “He’s all right somewhere, it seems.”
“Yes,” Clay agreed, “he must have caught on something, for the current would have carried him beyond hearing long before this. He may have found a rock in the middle of the stream, or a small island. Hope so.”
“Hello, hello!” came the voice again. “Can’t you send down a light or a gun? I’ve got into a mess here. Hurry up!”
“Suppose we send Captain Joe down with a string, and a rope tied to the end of the string,” suggested Gran. “The dog would swim straight to him, wouldn’t he? Then we could pull the boat back and Alex in it.”
“Fine idea!” cried Clay, “especially as the boy doesn’t appear to be very far off. Call the dog and I’ll get a long rope and a string. If the rope and string aren’t long enough to reach Alex we can pull the dog back. Good chance to make Captain Joe earn his food. What?”
Case rushed into the cabin and looked about for Captain Joe. He was not under foot in the middle of the cabin floor, as he frequently was. He was not on his rug under one of the shelf-benches. He was not in the cabin at all, and Case went out to the deck again, calling softly to the dog.
“He isn’t out here,” Clay said. “I’ve found the rope, so hurry up with the dog. He must be around here somewhere. Couldn’t have left the boat without our knowing it, could he? Couldn’t have deserted us?”
“Well,” Case insisted, returning from a search of the boat, “the dog is not here. What do you think of that? Where is he?”
“He was on board not an hour ago,” Gran declared. “I saw him back there by the boat, the rowboat, I mean. Could he have started out after Alex do you think? He certainly has gone somewhere.”