The High School Left End | Page 8

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,"
argued Bert, in an unsteady voice.
"And I'm just about as much of the opinion," retorted Hemingway,
"that your father left his hat and coat here, or sent them here, and didn't
even get his feet wet."
"That's preposterous," argued the son, half indignantly.
"Well, there is the spot, right there, where the hat and coat were found.
Now, for a hundred feet away, either up or down stream, the ground is
soft. Yet there are no tracks such as your father would have left had he
taken to the water close to where he left his discarded garments,"
argued Hemingway, swinging his lantern about.
"We've pretty well trodden down whatever footprints might have been
here," disputed Bert Dodge. "I shan't feel satisfied until daylight comes
and we've had a good chance to have the river dragged."
"Well, of course, it is possible you know of a reason that would make
your father throw himself into the river?" guessed Officer Hemingway,
with a shrewd glance at the son.
"Neither my mother nor I know anything about my father that would

supply a reason for his suicide," retorted Bert Dodge stiffly. "But I can't
see any reason for believing anything except that my poor dad must
now be somewhere in the river."
"We'll soon be able to do the best that we can do by night," rejoined
Hemingway. "Chief Coy has gone after a gasoline launch that carries
an electric search-light. As soon as he arrives we'll go all over the river,
throwing the light on every part of the water in search of some further
clue. There's no use, however, in trying to do anything more around
here. We may as well be quiet and wait."
"I can't stand still!" sounded Dodge's voice, with a ring of anguished
suspense in it. "I've got to keep hunting."
"Go ahead, then," nodded the detective. "We would, too, if there were
anything further that could be looked into. But there isn't. I'm going to
stop and smoke until the launch heaves in sight."
Both policemen threw themselves on the ground, produced pipes and
fell to smoking. But Bert Dodge, with the restlessness of keen distress,
continued to stumble on up and down along the bank, flashing the
lantern everywhere.
Presently Dodge was within sixty feet of where his High School mates
crouched in hiding.
Suddenly the livery stable horse, some four or five hundred feet away,
whinnied loudly, impatiently.
Natural as the sound was, young Dodge, in the tense state of his nerves,
started and looked frightened.
"Wh-what was that?" he gasped.
"A horse," called Hemingway quietly. "Probably some critter passing
on the road."
"I wish you'd see who's with that horse," begged young Dodge. "It may

bring us news. I'm going, anyway."
With that, swinging the lantern, Bert Dodge started to cut across
through the woods with its fringe of bushes.
Dave Darrin slipped away, and out of sight. Before Dick could do so,
however, young Dodge, moving at a fast sprint, was upon him.
Bert stopped as though shot when he caught sight of the other boy.
"Dick Prescott?" he gasped.
"Yes," answered Dick quietly.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see what news there is about the finding of your father."
Hemingway had now reached the spot, with the other policeman some
yards to the rear.
"You write for 'The Blade,' don't you?" challenged Bert.
"Yes," Dick assented.
"And 'The Blade' people sent you here?" cried Bert Dodge, in a voice
haughty with displeasure.
"Perhaps 'The Blade' sent me here," Dick only half admitted.
"Sent you here to pry into other people's affairs and secrets," continued
young Dodge impetuously. Then added, threateningly:
"Don't you dare to print a word about this affair!"
Dick looked quietly at young Dodge.
"Did you hear me?" demanded Bert.

"Yes."
"Then what's your answer?"
"That I heard you, Bert."
"You young puppy!" cried Dodge, advancing threateningly. "Don't you
address me familiarly."
"I don't care anything about addressing you at all," retorted Prescott,
flushing slightly under the insult. "At present I can make allowances for
you, for I fully understand how anxious you are. But that is no real