“What can have happened? What?”
There was a catch in Clem’s voice as she asked the question. Dark misgivings loomed before her as she cast a glance up the brush-choked trail down which the hound had come. Had she failed in her duty in not having started after the boys earlier? What terrible thing had befallen them that an unknown dog should drag home Dave’s shoe?
“Here, pup,” persuaded the carpenter, “let’s have the shoe. That’s a good dog.”
“Come on, hurry,” implored the distracted girl, watching Hawkins turn the shoe over and over in his rough hands. But one idea was present in Clem’s mind: Dave was in trouble and she must get to his aid with all possible speed. The remembrance of Dave’s guarded remarks regarding strange events was strong upon the girl as she started impatiently towar
