“My idea exactly,” cried Tom.  “He’s probably gone up town to hoist aboard a cargo of ‘Dutch Courage.’  Then he’ll come back here with some of his cronies and let the Fortuna go into the water with a splash!  That’ll be the end of the Fortuna.”

“Let’s hope not,” Frank answered.  “If he does that, we’ll have the law on him and he’ll be railroaded to the pentitentiary so quick he won’t even stop to say good-by.”

“If I see him when he’s doing it, he’ll go so far it would take a young fortune to send him a postal card,” gritted Tom.

“Possibly it would take all the wealth in the Treasure Chest,” laughed Jack.  “Our Tom is getting to be some bloodthirsty, himself.”

“Well, what’ll we do?” asked Tom.  “I hate sitting still.”

“I think it would not be a bad idea to go look for the boys,” replied Jack.  “It may seem foolish, but I feel that they are in trouble and need us.  Maybe a couple of us could go and the other stay here with Rowdy to guard the Fortuna.  It’s hard to decide what to do.”

“Let’s not separate any more,” begged Tom.  “We’re split up enough as it is.  Let’s all go or else all stay.”

“All the lockers are securely fastened so no one could take much if they came aboard,” argued Frank.  “I’m in favor of remaining together if we can.  If we only had a lantern to take with us.”

“We’ve got an acetylene headlight such as they use on motorcycles,” Tom declared.  “That would be a dandy thing.”

“Let’s go, then, before Wyckoff comes back with his friends.”

Accordingly the boys secured automatics and the acetylene headlight.  They hurriedly packed a bundle of food, borrowed one of the boats of the shipyard and started upstream to look for their chums.  In a short time they discovered the skiff moored at the leaning oak.  The big fish were duly admired by all.

“They’ve been gone quite a while,” announced Tom.  “See how hard and dry that fish is.  They forgot to put it overboard.”

“Evidently they didn’t intend to stay long,” suggested Jack.

“Look at Rowdy.  You didn’t know he was a bloodhound, did you?”

“Go it, boy,” urged Jack.  “Find Arnold.  Find Harry.”

The bulldog circled about the spot where the boys had eaten dinner, lost the scent, picked it up again, again dropped it and finally started away in dead earnest.  Hastening along the boys had hard work to keep up with him.  Through forest and glade, across swampy places and over ridges the dog led the lads ever at a swift pace.  Once in a while he stopped to give vent to a fierce growl.

At length the boys becoming exhausted called a halt.

“Make Rowdy rest a while until I get my breath,” protested Tom.

“He seems to know pretty near where he’s going,” Jack said.

“Yes,” agreed Frank, “and I have an idea that he’s trailing the boys.  The point that worries me is whether we can find our way back to the tree where the boats are tied.”