"Look at this chart and see all the places she _might_ be, will
you? It's a regular what-do-you-call-it--labyrinth!"
"It certainly is," agreed Joe. "And there's a lot of shallows about
here, too. Where's this Plum Island he spoke of?"
Steve pointed it out, a seven-mile stretch of sand behind which emptied
four or five small rivers. "Shall we try it?" he asked.
"Might as well be thorough," Joe replied. "What do you say, Harry?"
"I say yes. Seems to me they'd be mighty likely to slide into some such
place if only to paint a new name on."
"We'll have a look then," agreed Steve. The _Adventurer_ dipped her way
across Squam Bar and Steve swung the wheel. "Southeast, one-fourth
south," he muttered, looking from the chart to compass. "Watch for a
black spar buoy off the lighthouse. If they took the _Follow Me_ into
Essex Bay, though, we're running right away from her."
To port, the sand dunes shone dazzlingly in the sunlight and a long
stretch of snow-white beach kept pace with them as they made for the
entrance to Plum Island Sound. Several boats, sailing and power craft,
had been sighted, but nothing that looked in the least like the _Follow
Me_. The sun climbed into a hazy blue sky and the day grew hot in spite
of the light westerly breeze.
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