The storm-free sky the next morning gave no sign of the turmoil and destruction of the night. The few ragged remnants of clouds were fast disappearing. About the ship, the clearing was strewn with wind-whipped debris. Huge limbs, that belonged to no nearby tree, were jammed against the bare poles of the schoolroom.
They went to the beach, half-hopeful, half-fearful of what they might see. Nothing was apparent.
“It was a nightmare,” said Arlee. “We only dreamed it.”
“Here’s the trail,” said Free.
It looked as if a gigantic sack had been dragged along the ground from the clearing to the beach. Morten raised the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the surface of the lake. Abruptly, he stiffened and remained watching in one direction. Arlee and Free strained to see in the direction of the b
