“Umph! Then it’s queerer still.”
“What’s queerer?”
“That whoever’s in it didn’t give the alarm.”
Poke stared his hardest. “I’m not sure—I can’t make it out for certain—but is there anybody in that boat, anyway?”
“Give it up. Can’t tell from here.”
“Well, I’m going to find out,” said Poke, and ran to the water’s edge.
Two or three fishing punts were drawn up on the sand. Poke laid hands on the nearest and with Step’s aid pushed it out until it was afloat. Then both boys climbed aboard, and picked up the short oars lying in the bottom of the boat. Five minutes’ work put them alongside the drifting boat. Step caught its gunwale, and made as careful inspection of the craft as was possible in the faint light.
“Umph! Nobody home!” he reported. “Oars laid across the thwarts. Everything left in order; no water in the bottom. I don’t believe it’s a case of anybody tumbling overboard.”
“By ‘anybody’ you mean Zorn?” said Poke.
“Of course.”