The Moving Picture Boys on the Coast/Chapter 20
CHAPTER XX
THE DISCOVERY
Joe Duncan leaped to his chum's side. Eagerly he looked at the bit of cloth which, caught on a thorn bush, had ripped from some man's garment. The cloth was not weather-beaten, which, to the boys, showed that it had not long been hanging there.
"Blake, I believe you're right," assented his chum. "They went this way, and they must have done it for a blind, or else to get to some path that goes farther down the beach a different way," for the cloth was caught on a bush toward the landward side of the little clearing.
"We'll follow this," said Blake.
"Of course," agreed his chum.
They pushed into the bushes. There was no semblance of a path, but this did not discourage the boys. They realized that the wreckers would want to cover up their trail, and would take a way that would not seem to lead anywhere.
"This will branch off pretty soon," was Blake's opinion. "This is just a blind, to make us believe they have given up, and gone inland. Come on, Joe, and keep a sharp lookout for any other signs."
They found none for some time, and then they came to a little open place where the soft ground held several footprints.
"We're getting warmer!" exclaimed Joe.
"Hush!" cautioned his chum. "They may hear us."
"Why, you don't think they're around here; do you?"
"There's no telling. It's best to be on the safe side. Keep quiet. Hello! here's something else!" and Blake, moving cautiously, so as not to make any more noise than possible, picked up a bit of metal.
"What is it?" asked Joe.
"Part of their lantern," answered his chum. "It was made of black sheet iron, you remember. This piece may have fallen off when they dragged it through the bushes. We're on the right trail, all right."
"I believe you. But I wish it would turn on to a better path. It's no fun forcing your way through these bushes."
"It'll turn soon now," predicted Blake. "They only took this lead long enough to discourage pursuit. They didn't like it any better than we do."
His surmise proved correct and about five minutes later, having found other evidences of the passage of the wreckers, they came out on an open trail.
It was a narrow path, leading along in both directions from where they came out on it, and following the coast line, but some distance inland. There were evidences that men had passed in both directions, and that at no distant time, for footprints turned to both the left and right, as the boys emerged from the blind trail in the brush.
"Well, what about this?" questioned Joe, as he looked in silence at the tell-tale marks. "Which way shall we go, Blake?"
"To the right!" came the answer, almost immediately.
"What makes you say that?" asked his chum. "I don't see anything to show that they went to the right, any more than that they went to the left."
"Don't you?" asked Blake. "Look here, and remember some of the things our cowboy guide told us when we were after the Indians. Now you see footprints going off to the left and right from this point; don't you?"
"Sure."
"Well, do you happen to notice that on the left there are footprints coming back as well as going."
"Yes, I see that. But what does it mean?"
"And on the right side, counting from this dividing point, there are only footprints in one direction."
"That's so, Blake. But"
"Now what's the answer? Why the men got here, and, thinking they might be followed, tried a simple trick. They doubled their trail."
"What's that?"
"Why, some of them went off to the left, walked on a little way, doubled, or turned, and came back, joining the others, who had turned to the right and kept on."
"Why was that?"
"Because they wanted to fool us. Naturally a person, not looking carefully, would see both lines of footprints, and would reason that the men might have divided, or that there might have been two separate parties. He wouldn't know which trail to take. He might pick out the right one, and, again, he might select the wrong one."
"And you say the right one is"
"To the right. We'll follow that. If they think to fool us, or make us divide our forces, they're going to be disappointed. Another thing."
"What's that, Blake?" asked Joe, as he noticed a his chum leaning over and carefully examining the marks in the dirt.
"Why, naturally they wouldn't go to the left, as that eventually leads to the lighthouse. They want to keep some distance from that. Of course they'd go to the right. And here's where we go after 'em. Come on!"
There was no hesitation now. Joe was as sure as his chum that the wreckers had gone farther down the coast, perhaps to some other high cliff where they could set up their lantern.
They followed the path. The trail was plain now, showing that a number of men had passed along. Footprints were the only clues, however, a number overlapping one another.
"What shall we do if we find them?" asked Joe.
"I—I don't know," answered Blake. This was when they had been following the new trail for about an hour.
"We can't tackle 'em alone, that's sure," went on Joe.
"No, but we can— Hark! What's that?" whispered Blake, suddenly.
They listened intently. Far off they could hear the roar of the surf on the beach; but, closer at hand, was another sound. It was the clink of metal. And then came the distant murmur of men's voices.
"Joe, I think we've found them," whispered Blake. "Come on, but don't make any noise."
Cautiously they crept forward, the sounds becoming more and more plain.
Suddenly they heard a loud voice exclaim:
"There! I guess that will do the business! And those fellows won't find us here!"
"That's them!" whispered Blake in Joe's ear. "I know the voice of Hemp Danforth. We've found 'em, Joe!"