IN WHICH THE FIREFLY DISAPPEARS
nothing of him all day, and his scraggy pony was securely tethered in its stable.
"This is beginning to get mysterious," Dave said.
"I think perhaps we ought to organize a search-party and hunt for him," Tempest suggested. "He may be lying injured somewhere."
Dave was looking out over the darkened sea. He said nothing for several minutes.
"I wonder whether a search-party would find him," he observed after a lengthy pause.
"Why, what do you mean?" Tempest asked quickly. His own nerves were almost on edge.
"I mean," said Dave, slowly, "do you really think he is on Washington Island at the present minute?"
"Great Mackerel, Dave, but I'm glad you 've said it! Do you know, the same idea has been worrying me ever since sunset, and yet I hated to put it into words."
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