"I have it!" exclaimed Frank, after a few minutes of profound thought, as the boys paddled homeward.
"What?" asked Mark—"the otter?"
"No, but I know who stole him. It's one of the very fellows that tried to get me."
"Alligators!" shouted Mark.
"Yes, alligators; I expect they're the very thieves who have been robbing our traps."
The next day at noon, when Mark finished his work at the mill, he hurried back to the ferry to see what Frank meant when he called him that morning, and said he had something to tell him.
Frank had gone to the other side of the river with a passenger, but he soon returned.
"Well, what is it?" asked Mark, as he helped make the boat fast.
"It's this," said Frank. "I've seen a good many alligators in the river lately, and I've had my eye on one big old fellow in particular. He spends most of his time in that little cove down there; but I've noticed that whenever a dog barks, close to the river or when he is crossing on the ferry, the old 'gator paddles out a little way from the cove, and looks very wishfully in that direction. I know alligators are more fond of dog-meat than anything else, but they won't refuse fish when nothing better offers. Now look here."
Going to the other end of the boat as he spoke, Frank produced a coil of light, but strong Manila line that he had obtained at the house. To one end of this rope were knotted a dozen strands of stout fish-line, and the ends of these were made fast to the middle of a round hickory stick, about six inches long, and sharply pointed at each end. These sharp ends had also been charred to harden them.