“Pancakes,” cried Frank.  “Those you made when we were leaving Petit Bois were just about the best I ever ate.”

“Pancakes it is, then,” agreed Tom dashing to the kitchenette, where he proceeded to prepare a breakfast of delicious pancakes and coffee.  A few freshly boiled shrimp added to the feast were welcomed by the boys.  A passing fisherman had offered them to Jack at just the right moment.  The boys did ample justice to the feast.

Leaving the foreman to superintend the matter of replacing the plank where Wyckoff had bored the hole in his dastardly effort to sink the Fortuna and her crew, the boys took a boat from the Fortuna and rowed up to the leaning oak.  From thence it was easy enough with Rowdy’s aid to trail the route to the site of the cabin in the clearing.

The embers had now cooled sufficiently so that the boys could search in the ruins.  For a moment they hesitated to explore the ashes, fearing what they might find.  A last they plucked up their courage and began a thorough search.  The task was not a pleasant one.

“What’s this?” cried Tom.  “Boys, I declare I smell burned flesh.  That odor hangs around here something fierce.”

“Well if that big Doright was telling the truth,” Frank argued, “the boys got out of the cabin and were safe last night.  How about it?”

“You can’t tell anything by what that fellow said,” Tom replied.  “He just saw that we were worried about the boys and wanted them to be safe, so he said they were safe.  That’s all there is to that.”

“He’s considerable of a child,” Jack announced.  “They all are.”

During this time Rowdy had been circling the spot where the cabin had stood, occasionally sending up a doleful howl.

“Watch Rowdy,” Tom declared.  “If he isn’t an indication that something happened here last night, I’ll miss my guess.”

“Well, I don’t believe that what you mean did happen,” Jack contended.  “If it was so, Doright would have acted differently.  He was very composed when we saw him and that bluff he put up about this being his farm showed that he knew where the boys were all the time.”

“Then what do you suppose happened to them?” Tom’s voice broke.

“I don’t know.  They’re around here somewhere.  Of that I’m sure.  They are not far away,” Jack stoutly contended.

“What do you think Frank?” was Tom’s almost tearful query.

“I think we’d better not make up our minds until we get some better evidence than a smell or a negro’s word.  Let’s keep digging.”

Accordingly the boys vigorously attacked the plan they had in mind of stirring about through all the ashes in search of a clue to the whereabouts of their chums.  At last a shout from Tom proclaimed a discovery.  His friends rushed to his side.

“Right here by the chimney.”  Tom broke down.  “There it is.”

“Now, Tom,” half scolded Jack.  “Brace up, boy!  Suppose it were reversed.  Would you want them to squall over you?”