The boats separated, both skirting the shore in opposite directions.
"There's some one rowing," exclaimed Everest. "Right ahead."
"I think it's Simpson's boat," replied Atherton. "It is difficult to locate sound in a fog."
Nearer and nearer came the sound, till Atherton knew that he was mistaken.
"Boat ahoy!" he bawled.
There was no reply. Whoever it was scorned to take notice of the hail, and the splash of the oars grew fainter and fainter.
"Here's the landing," announced Everest. "Why, that boat must have put off from there."
"Hope the fellow's honest," muttered Atherton, "or our camp might be ransacked. I didn't like his churlish manner in not replying. Shout to Simpson, Phillips, and let him know we've found the place."
As soon as the boats were hauled up and properly secured and their gear removed, the Scouts wended their way up the zig-zag path to the camp.
Atherton gave a sigh of relief to find that nothing had been interfered with. Speedily the tents were opened, the cooks tackled the kitchen fire, while foragers were sent to collect fuel and cover it up so that it might be dry for the morning.