“By George, you’ve hit the nail right on the head there,” cried Dave.  “That’s the trouble.  Bert has been leading a kick that was aimed very largely at Dick & Co., and now it almost puts him out of his head to find that Dick Prescott, of all the fellows in the school, has been sent by ‘The Blade’ to gather the facts concerning Theodore Dodge’s mysterious disappearance—–­or death.”

“Mr. Dodge isn’t dead,” replied Prescott slowly.

“What?  And say!  Do you realize, Dick, that you’re letting the horse walk?”

“I intended to,” returned Dick.  “Whoa!”

“There’s a boat coming up the river and showing a search-light,” broke in Dave, pointing.

“I saw it.  That’s why I stopped the horse.  It must be Chief Coy’s launch that he went after.  Yes; there it is, putting in where we first saw Bert Dodge and the officers.”

“Well, if you’re not going to keep track of the launch, why don’t you hit a fast gait for the office?” queried Darrin.

“There is plenty of time yet,” Dick replied, “and we’ve nothing to report to the office yet.  I’m just waiting for that boat to take on its passengers and get well away from the spot.”

“Oh!” guessed Dave.  “Then you’re going back and make your own search of the place?”

“You’re clever,” nodded Prescott, with a low laugh.  “Yes; it may be that Hemingway and his companion have made a fine search.  Or it may be that they’ve missed clues that a blind man ought to see.”

So the two High School boys sat there, in the buggy drawn up at the side of the road, for the next fifteen minutes.  In that time the launch took on the waiting passengers, and the light played over all that part of the river, then started down stream.

Dick slowly headed the horse about, this time driving much closer to the river’s bank than he had done before.

“There’s a lantern under the seat, Dave.  I saw it when we started from ‘The Blade’ office.  Haul it out and light it, will you?”

For some minutes the two High School boys searched without much result.  At last Dick and Dave began to move in wider circles, away from the much-tramped ground.  Then, holding the lantern close to the ground, Prescott moved nearer and nearer to the railway track, all the while scanning the soil closely.

“Look there, Dave!” suddenly called Prescott.   “No-----Don’t look
just yet,” he added, holding the lantern behind him.   “But tell
me; you’ve often seen Mr. Dodge.   What kind of boots did he wear?”

“Narrow, pointed shoes, and rather high heeled for a man to wear,” Darrin answered.

“Exactly,” nodded Dick.  “Look there!”

Darrin bent down over a soft spot in the soil close to the railway roadbed.  There were three prints of just such a boot as he had described.

“You see the small heel print,” continued Prescott, in a whisper.  “And you note that the front part of the foot makes a heavy impression, as it would when the foot is tilted forward by a high heel.”