“Harry never took that dinghy,” he exclaimed apprehensively, “there’s been some crooked work here.”
“Thunder and turtles! What do you mean?” gasped Pudge, fully as anxiously.
“That some one has landed here and stolen the dinghy and taken Harry along with them. I can’t think of any other explanation. Harry would never have cut that rope.”
“You mean he’s been carried off?” The question came from Billy Barnes.
“I can’t think of any other explanation. Pudge, did you hear anything that sounded suspicious?”
“Oilskins and onions, no! Not a sound. Let’s fire a pistol and see if we get any answer.”
“That’s a good idea, Pudge—Great Scott!”
“What’s the matter?” demanded Billy Barnes, as Frank broke off short and uttered the above exclamation.
“Look here! Harry’s clothes! Wait till I get a light. There! Now, see all his outer garments and his pistol lying by them.”
“Gatling guns and grass hoppers, if this doesn’t beat all.”