“Well, there’s no use staying down here any longer,” said Chot. “Bert has disappeared, that’s all, and, very likely, of his own free will.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Pod, with a dubious shake of the head.
“Well, I don’t see what could have happened to him,” said Tom.
“There’s no way to tell what has happened unless we can first decide just why he cried out, then dashed so hurriedly inside,” said Chot. “He was excited—that we know—and the most natural surmise is that he heard someone rummaging about the basement.”
They returned to the first floor of the lodge, and found Fleet and Hoki eagerly awaiting them. From the expression on Fleet’s face they knew that nothing unusual had happened while they were below.
The top story was then gone over, with the same result. Either through his own volition or by some means which the Comrades were unable at present to fathom, Bert Creighton had mysteriously disappeared.
“I knew you wouldn’t find him,” said Fleet. “He’s just gone—that’s all—vanished into thin air. I don’t know what we’ll ever say to his folks.”
“Oh, shut up with that sort of chatter,” said Chot, severely. “You make me tired! Nothing serious has happened to Bert.”
“Then where is he?” demanded Fleet, his voice quivering with suppressed excitement.
“That’s what we’ll have to find out. We can’t do it in a minute; we’ve no Sherlock Holmes among us. This much I know, though: No matter how unnatural this may seem, it has happened in a perfectly natural manner, and we’ll find a way to solve it.”