"Maybe he just brushed the saddle off," suggested Allen, who, with
Frank, had come out with a rope halter that had been provided in case
the "ghost hunt" was a success. "We'll look around. I'll get a
lantern."

But a hasty search in the darkness revealed nothing. There was no sign
of a saddle.

"We'll have to wait until morning," sighed Will, as he tied Prince to
a tree. "Then we can see better, and look all around. Prince, old boy,
you knew me; didn't you?" The handsome animal whinnied, and rubbed his
nose against Will's arm.

"And so you played the part of a ghost, you rascal! Scaring the
girls---- "

"We'll never admit that," called Betty from the tent.

There was nothing more to do that night, after making Prince secure.
The boys ate a little mid-night supper, and from the tent of the girls
came the odor of chocolate, which Grace insisted on making. Then,
after fitful slumbers, morning came.

Will was up early to examine Prince. He found the healed cut, where
the auto had struck, and there was evidence that the saddle had been
on the animal until recently. The iron stirrups would account for the
sound like chains.

"The saddle must be somewhere on this island," declared Will. "I'm
going to find it."