The boys looked into faces which had lost the ruddy tinge of health. For a second not a word was spoken.
Then Clay laughed. This seemed to set the pace for the men, for they all laughed in unison.
Then Case grew sober.
“I had a grumble at the end of my tongue,” he said, “but Clay’s laugh made me forget it. What’s the next move?”
“Find the boat,” contributed Buck. “As we don’t know which way they went, we’ll split the party, and go in both directions. They can’t be very far away.”
“They went upstream,” said Alex. “I had a seat at the table from which the river was in sight, and I’m positive that no motor boat passed in the other direction.”
“Still, one might have gone downstream when you were otherwise engaged,” replied Buck. “I’ve noticed that boys have a habit of overlooking many things when the ’possum is cooked just right.”
Alex grinned but made no comment.
“This is some of Mad Rowell’s work,” said Rube, as the party passed on upstream.
“You bet it is,” Case added. “Twice I thought I saw him in the underbrush, but finally decided that it was my imagination working overtime. I wish now that I had investigated.”