certainly not a place where I'd care to build my happy home."
After about an hour of desultory search they came upon something that proved conclusively that human beings had indeed been there before them—and not long previously, at that. Charred embers and a crude fireplace built of rocks in a little hollow told the boys that someone had preceded them.
"We're on the track of something," declared Frank, as he examined the remains of the fire. "This blaze was built here not long ago. Some one has camped here." He circled the rock, which dipped toward a patch of undergrowth and luxuriant grass. "And here's a trail!" he exclaimed.
It was merely a faint depression in the deep grass, but it proved that more than one person had passed that way before. The trail wound along through the verdure, away from the shore, leading toward the interior of the island.
"Well, if some one else has gone this way, we can follow the path, too," Joe remarked. "Got your gun?"
"Yes." Frank patted his hip. Both boys had provided themselves with revolvers before leaving home. They were not adept with firearms, but the nature of their mission had prompted them to come prepared for any emergency. Fenton Hardy had a collection of
