“I’ll have Brad help me cover it up with canvas as soon as he gets back,” he thought. “Wish he’d hurry.”
Dan glanced toward the forest in the direction the Cubs had gone. None of the boys were in sight. What was keeping them so long at the ravine?
Deciding to wash his hands, Dan sauntered down to the river. As he crossed the rippled sand he was startled to see a moccasin print near the overturned canoe.
Rather alarmed by the discovery, the boy bent to examine the print carefully. It was much too large to have been made by one of the Cubs. At any rate, they all wore rubber-soled shoes.
Searching near the water’s edge close to the canoe, Dan found other similar moccasin marks.
“Someone’s been sneaking around here since Mr. Hatfield left,” he thought uneasily.
More than ever, Dan now wished that the Cubs would return to camp. Though not afraid to remain alone, he could not rid himself of an uncomfortable feeling that at this very moment he was being watched from the nearby woods.
His mind dwelt upon the unpleasant recollection that a painted paddle, food and a highly valuable blanket had disappeared from camp. Now it seemed someone had designs upon the canoe!
The trail of moccasin prints could not be traced beyond the beach. Yet Dan was almost certain that their maker, perhaps one of the Indians he had met, had taken refuge in the woods.
“Nothing I can do except warn Mr. Hatfield,” he told himself. “A nice thing when one can’t leave anything lying around without having it disappear!”