“They’re never Mr. Tuckerman’s or Tom’s,” said Ben.
“The Professor has rather small feet,” stated David, “and I happen to remember that Tom wore sneakers this morning.”
“They can’t have been there very long,—not for more than a few days at the most.”
“I should say not. Benjamin, somebody has been trespassing on our island.”
“I wonder if there are any more.” Ben began to search.
There were no more footprints, however. The stretch of soggy ground was very limited, almost immediately the soil grew stony. So, after a brief hunt, the two came back to the shore. “Now I wonder,” mused Ben, “what that very large-footed person was doing here.”
“Do you think,” asked David, “he can have been looking for the Cotterell treasure?”
“It’s much more likely,” said Ben, “he was looking for something easier to find. However—suppose—there’s an off chance——” And Ben went on mumbling to himself, while he jingled a bunch of keys in his pocket, as was his custom when he was lost in thought.
“What in the world are you doing?” demanded the exasperated David.
“Putting two and two together—or at least trying to.”