“Maybe he went along,” Fred suggested.
“Maybe,” Brad agreed doubtfully. “But he couldn’t have returned to camp very long ago.”
While the other boys aired their bedding and attended to camp tasks, the older boy wandered along the shore.
On the west beach he noticed where a boat had been pulled up on the wet sand. The area was splattered with footprints, both large and small.
“A boat landed after the Cubs went trail hunting,” Brad reconstructed the scene. “Dan must have come down here to meet the folks, whoever they were. Maybe he went away with them, or was taken away!”
As far as Brad could see, the river was deserted of small craft. However, the dense bushes lining both sides of the wide stream provided ample protection for any boat which might seek to keep out of view.
Recalling the motorcraft which apparently had been serviced by the island raft, Brad became increasingly uneasy.
“It isn’t like Dan to go away without leaving word,” he told himself. “Something’s happened to him!”
Just then his roving gaze fastened upon a pile of three stones placed conspicuously on the beach. Plainly they had been left there to attract attention.
Brad kicked aside the stones. Folded beneath the lowermost one was a note from Dan.