“David,” said Ben solemnly, “you’re absolutely certain you saw those footprints of a man on the bank of the creek, are you?”
“Absolutely,” David stated. “You don’t think it was some animal wearing a man’s shoes, do you?”
“No. I thought you saw them. But I looked this morning in the same place, and there aren’t any prints there now.”
There followed a moment’s silence; then Tuckerman exploded a loud “What?”
“Vanished, vamoosed, flown away,” Ben said with a nod.
“My eye!” exclaimed David. “This is too horrible! Is the island haunted?”
“It is peculiar,” said Tuckerman, frowning at the shore.
“Look out!” sang out Tom.
The Argo, her helmsman unheeding his business, was slowly coming about, with a ledge of rock dead ahead. Tuckerman wheeled around, put the tiller over—the dory righted again.
“Ben,” said Tom, “don’t you spring anything like that on us again, with the Professor sailing this boat. If you’ve got any other fairy tales, you keep them till we’re on shore.”