The fisherman was at the hut when Larry arrived, and was busy
preparing a meal.

"Guess you feel like eating something, don't ye?" he asked.

"You guessed it right the first time," replied the young reporter,
with a grin.

"And my other company," went on Bailey. "I expect he's hungry."

"He's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes; I came back here a while ago and there wasn't a sign of him."

"Why, that's queer," returned the fisherman. "I've been so busy
frying this bacon and making fresh coffee I didn't notice it. But
that reminds me, I haven't seen or heard anything of him since I
came in. His clothes are gone, too."

Larry and Bailey made a hasty search through the cabin. There were
few places where a person could conceal himself, and they very soon
found that their late guest was nowhere on the premises.

"Here's something," remarked Larry, as he looked on a small table in
the room where the rescued man had slept. "It looks like a note."

It was a note, written on the fly leaf torn from a book. It read: