Old Whey shook his head mournfully.
“No, sir. Jimmie’s dead and gone, he is, and the old man is left alone. All alone.”
After he had had some strong coffee and breakfast, however, the old man rallied. He said he would accompany Ralph to the scene of the wreck. He suggested taking the row boat, as it would be easier than walking. Just as a westerner catches up a pony rather than walk a quarter of a mile, so a denizen of the St. Lawrence always travels in a skiff or a punt or a “put-put” (St. Lawrence for motor boat), if he is lucky enough to possess one.
But when they came out of the hut, imagine the surprise of the old man and the boy when they saw that the boat had gone!
There was no question about it, the skiff had vanished utterly without leaving a trace.
They hurried to the beach, the old man almost tearful over this new calamity. Ralph bent and examined the ground in the vicinity of the place where the boat had lain. Then he straightened up with an angry exclamation.
“La Rue’s work again!” he cried. “Three men have been here and, beyond the shadow of a doubt, it was La Rue and his companions. They have escaped from the island with the gems in your stolen boat.”
CHAPTER XXXI.
AFLOAT AGAIN!
The old man was more than angry. He was furious. He wept and wailed and tore his hair. The loss of the boat affected him like some great disaster, which, in fact, it was to him. But Ralph succeeded in allaying somewhat his fury and grief by promising him a new skiff as soon as he should be able to procure one.
“I feel that I am partly responsible for the loss of your skiff,” said the boy, “as, if it had not been for me, those three men would not have come near your hut. So I’ll see to it that you get another one.”