oticed the obstacles, however, so keenly were they bent on
getting back to camp and learning the news which they knew must be
awaiting them. They covered the distance in half the time it had taken
them to ascend the hillside and were met in the camp by the body of
searchers--Andy Bowles, Sim Jeffords and Ernest Thompson--who had swung
off to the left or mainland side of the island.

"Well, boys, what news?" breathlessly exclaimed Rob, "we saw the
counsel smoke and hurried down at top speed."

"Well, there's not very much, I'm afraid, Rob," began Andy, "but we
found something that may give us a clue. About half a mile down the
beach there's the distinct mark of a boat keel where it was drawn up on
the hard sand and the marks of three separate pairs of feet."

"Good," exclaimed Rob, "that's something and half confirms my
suspicion. Go on, Andy, what else?"

"Well, we examined the marks carefully and found that two pairs of feet
wore good shoes and the third a very broken, disreputable pair."

"Yes," exclaimed Rob, while the others listened breathlessly.

"Of course that indicated to us that three persons must have carried
Joe off--for I don't think there's much doubt now that he was carried
off, do you?"

"I don't," said Rob sadly, "but for what possible motive?"

"I have it," suddenly exclaimed Tubby Hopkins, snapping his fingers,
"you remember the day of the aeroplane model contest?"

"Yes, but what--" began Rob.

"Has that to do with it," finished Tubby for him. "Everything. It was
Joe who first told the committee that Jack's model was a bought one and
so lost him the fifty-dollar prize."

"By cracky, that's right!" assented Rob, "and you think that Jack and
his gang have carried him off in revenge for it?"

"Looks that way to me," nodded the stout youth.

"Why, they wouldn't dare," began Andy Bowles.

"Oh, yes, they would," amended Rob bitterly, "they'd dare anything to
get even on us for their fancied wrongs. But whose could have been the
broken ragged shoes?" he asked, suddenly taking up another train of
thought.

"Hank Handcrafts, the beach-comber's," suggested Tubby.

"Gee Whillikens! I'll bet a cracker that's the solution," cried Andy,
"and now I come to think of it I heard, before we left, that Jack and
his gang had gone camping."

"Where?"

"Up around the Upper Inlet somewhere. You know that's full of islands
and as there's no drinking water there few people ever think of
frequenti