Beveridge walked rapidly out into the clearing and disappeared around the shed. They heard him mount Spencer's front steps and knock.
“He's plucky enough,” muttered Dick.
“Oh, don't you worry about Bill Beveridge,” said Wilson. “Why, I've seen him—”
But Beveridge was calling for them to join him.
“Nobody here?” asked Wilson.
“Not a soul. I took a look around the house. They left in a hurry. See there.”
He nodded toward the harbor. There lay the Merry Anne at the wharf. The smaller schooner was not to be seen.
“Too late, eh?” said Wilson.
“Too late.”
“Suppose they've gone overland?”