“Well, as long as we’re able to follow his trail, we hadn’t ought to give up in despair,” George asserted, very sensibly.
“Sure, we’ve shown in the past that we’re not built that way,” Jimmy thought fit to remark, firmly.
“Then let’s be going on,” Jack wound up the conference by saying.
For the fifth time the trail approached the water again. Josh evidently hated to give up the idea that had been in his mind when he left camp. If there were any of those dainty little shore birds to be had, he wanted to get a crack at the same; though by this time he must have become aware of the fact that he was wandering much farther away than he had intended doing in the start.
This time there happened to be quite a deep-seated cove, with a point of land running out that would completely shut out all sight of the spot where the three motor boats were anchored, with the camp-fire ashore.
Jack noted this fact; somehow it was impressed on his mind, though he could not have exactly explained why this should be so, had he been asked.
The tracks grew fainter, so that it was only by pushing the glowing and useful lantern down close to the sand that Jack was able to follow the line by which Josh had pushed his way along.
“Here is where he dropped on his knees, the better to crawl forward,” whispered the guide; and both George and Jimmy could make out the deeper impressions that undoubtedly must have been made by a pair of knees pressing down.