“There’s an outside chance the boat may have lodged at the Fulton bridge, a quarter of a mile down river,” Mr. Hatfield remarked thoughtfully. “The current would carry it in that direction. I think I’ll drive that way on my way home.”
Brad and Dan immediately sought permission to accompany the Cub leader.
“I’ll be glad to have you,” Mr. Hatfield said. “Better telephone your parents and tell them not to bother to pick you up. I’ll drive you home after we’ve looked for the boat.”
Eager to be off, Mr. Hatfield borrowed a lantern from Midge’s father. With Brad and Dan, he then selected the main highway which would take the car across the Fulton bridge.
“It’s too late for us to make an extensive search for the boat tonight,” he remarked as they drove along. “The chances are it will drift miles from Rabb Island. All the same, we’ll keep our eyes peeled.”
Under the pale light of the moon, the boys caught occasional glimpses of the racing river. At the bridge where rolling waves dashed against the stone supports, Mr. Hatfield halted the car for a better view.
Gazing down over the cement railing, Dan and Brad saw boxes, boards, logs and miscellaneous debris swept past. Other refuse of the river had lodged in quieter waters. Foam rose in a soapy sea around the bridge pillars where the waves slapped high.
But there was no sign of the missing boat.
“Guess it was too much to expect,” Mr. Hatfield said, turning away from the railing. “Well, nothing to do but organize a search tomorrow. I’m afraid though, that the boat will be badly battered by the time we recover it.”
Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs returned to the parked automobile and drove on. For a short distance the highway curled close to the rivers edge. At one point, shallow water flooded the pavement.