We now come back to Grit, who stood on the river's bank in perplexity, when he discovered that his boat had been abstracted.
"Who can have taken it?" he thought.
Here he felt quite at a loss. It did not occur to him that his stepfather had had anything to do with his boat, for he could not understand of what advantage it would be to him. He did not comprehend fully, however, how serious the loss was likely to prove, since it took away his means of living.
He stooped over and examined the rope. Clearly, it had been cut, and this showed that the boat had been taken by some unauthorized person.
"I can't understand who would serve me such a trick," thought Grit. "I don't know that I have any enemies."
But at this point he could not help thinking of Phil Courtney, who, if not an enemy, was certainly not a friend.
"Is it possible that Phil would play me such a trick?" he asked himself. "No; he would think too much of himself. He would not condescend to do such a thing."
Grit walked up and down along the river bank, looking here and there to see if anywhere he could descry his boat. At length he saw a boat, but the boat was not his. It belonged to Jesse Burns, the son of the postmaster, and was of about the same size and build as his own.
"Jesse!" he called out, putting his hands to his mouth to increase the volume of sound.
Jesse heard the call, and rowed toward where Grit was standing.