do not know that Dodge's disappearance has leaked out to the press.
Most folks in Gridley know that I write for 'The Blade.' So I'm
in no hurry to show up among the searchers. I intend, instead,
to see what they're doing. By going quietly we can approach,
through that wood, and get close enough to see and hear without
making our presence known."

"I understand," nodded Darrin.

Within two or three minutes the High School reporter and his chum
had gained a point in the bushes barely one hundred and fifty
feet away from where two men and a boy, carrying between them
two lanterns, were closely examining the ground near the bank.
One of the men was Hemingway, who was a sort of detective on
the Gridley police force. The other man was a member of the uniformed
force, though just now in citizen's dress. The boy was Bert
Dodge, son of the missing banker, and one of the best football
men of the senior class of Gridley High School.

"It's odd that we can't find where the trail leads to," the eavesdroppers
heard Hemingway mutter presently.

"I'm afraid," replied young Dodge, with a slight choke in his
voice, "that our failure is due to the fact that water doesn't
leave any trail."

"So you think your father drowned himself?" asked Hemingway, looking
sharply at the banker's son.

"If he didn't, then some one must have pushed him into the river,"