lead that would tell them in which direction the wreckers had gone.
"I should think they'd go farther down the coast," suggested Joe. "They certainly wouldn't come toward the lighthouse, and they wouldn't go inland, for to work their plan they need to be near the shore."
"That's right, to an extent," decided Blake; "but, at the same time, they may have wanted to give a false clue. So we mustn't let that fool us. Keep on looking."
Narrowly they scanned the ground. It was covered with marks, not only of the footsteps of the wreckers, but of the men and boys themselves who had made the unsuccessful raid the night before.
"Hello!" cried Blake, suddenly, as he dived into a clump of bushes. "Here's something!"
"What is it?" asked Joe.
"A piece of cloth, evidently torn from a man's clothing. And, Joe, now that I recall it, it's the same color as the suit worn by Hemp Danforth when he chased us. We're on the trail at last, Joe!"
