The young reporter came to a wharf that extended well out into the lake. It seemed dark and deserted, and he was rather doubtful whether it would do any good to inquire there. But he realized that he must overlook no possible chances.
As he approached the dark and gloomy entrance he was halted by a sharp voice demanding:
“Well, what do you want?”
“I want to inquire if you have seen a small boat land anywhere around here?” spoke Larry. “A boat with two men and a boy in it. The boy might be sick.”
“I don’t know. Why do you ask?” came the question, and Larry told briefly about little Lorenzo.
“No such boat came in here,” replied the man, as he swung his lantern up to throw the light in Larry’s face. “I’m the watchman here, and I’ve been on duty since five o’clock. I don’t let strange boats land at my dock, anyhow. This is private.”
“Could they have landed at some of the public docks?”
“Yes, I suppose so, if the watchman didn’t care what chances he took.”
“Then there are watchmen at all the docks?” asked Larry.
“Yes. They’re supposed to be always on guard. But there’s a public dock some way down the water front where landings can be made at night, I understand. You might inquire there.”