“Well! where is he?” demanded Dan, flinging his coat across the stern of the boat.
“Ask me!” growled Billy.
“What! not found?”
“There’s something blamed funny about this island,” declared his younger brother with emphasis.
“We didn’t find a trace of him,” announced Lettie.
“But the smell of smoke,” corrected Billy.
“That’s so,” agreed the girl, rather mildly for her. “We did smell wood smoke. But we didn’t find a mark—not a footprint——”
“I should say not,” said Billy. “And the island all rocks and frozen ground—not a smitch of snow on it anywhere.”
“Funny thing,” grunted Dan. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that dummy myself. Well! let’s get on. Can’t take you any farther up-river, to-day, girls.”
“Of course not!” said Lettie, tossing her head. “It seems as though we are fated never to get any farther up-stream on this old boat than hereabout.”