His question was soon answered, for as he reached the end of the wharf he could see, in the dim light, the form of the boat some hundred yards off shore.
“Mighty funny how she got loose,” he muttered, as he looked about him. Then, seeing that the rope was still tied to the post, he stooped down and quickly pulled it in. It was a short job, as only a few feet of it remained. Eagerly he examined the end.
“Looks as though she had chafed it through,” he declared, as he saw the frayed end. “I don’t understand it though, as Cap’n Seth is too careful a man to tie up a boat so that it would chafe.”
A very light breeze was blowing and he could not, for the moment, see that the boat was moving; but, as he watched it, he realized that it was slowly drifting down the lake.
“Guess I’d better go get Cap’n Seth,” he thought, as he turned back toward the camp.
He was half way to the bunk house when he stopped as a thought struck him.
“Pshaw,” he said half aloud. “There’s no use in waking him up. I can take the canoe and bring her in myself. I know how to run her.”
He turned and ran back to the little shed behind the office where the canoe was kept, stopping only long enough at the pump to get his delayed drink. A few moments later he was sending the light craft rapidly through the water toward the drifting steamer.
“Guess I’d better be careful,” he thought, as he got to within a few yards of the boat. “It’s just possible that there might be someone aboard her.”
So for a time he let the canoe drift, as he strained his ears to listen. But no sound, save the soft lapping of the water against the side of the steamer came to him, and dipping his paddle noiselessly in the water, he soon grasped the side of the boat. Again he waited and listened.