“No one there now,” Brad said. “But I think you may be right. Ever since we came here, I’ve had a feeling as if we’re being watched. There’s something about this place I don’t like.”
Convinced they were to obtain no help from the caretaker, the boys sought an easier route back to the beach.
Not far from the rear of the hotel, they noticed an abandoned pier which had fallen into decay. Tied to it was the same raft they had observed earlier that afternoon.
Farther down the shore extended a long stretch of loose sand which gradually merged into turf and wooded area.
“Wonder if that tale Mr. Hatfield told us about the tunnel is true?” Brad speculated as they dog-trotted along. “No evidence of it anywhere around.”
Without seeing anyone, the boys struck across the dunes, and finally emerged on the beach not far from where they first had taken refuge.
Gazing down-river, they sought to determine the position of their drifting boat. To their astonishment it was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, for crying out loud!” Dan yipped. “Now what became of it? How could that boat have drifted out of sight so fast?”
“It couldn’t. Either someone has hauled it in or—”
“Or what?” Dan demanded as his companion broke off.