It took him about three
minutes to reach the far edge of the timber and outskirts of the town.
Here several streets began, and as he could not follow them all, he was
brought to a halt. Which way should he go now? He had seen nothing of
the boy, whom he certainly ought to have overtaken before this, nor of
any other person. Could he have passed them? Where should he look for
Gilder and Plater? Would it not be better, after all, to await their
return on the raft? Of course it would. He had been a fool to leave
it, and now his best plan was to get back to it as quickly as possible.
These thoughts occupied less than a minute, and so impatient was the
man to regain the raft he had just left that inside of two minutes more
he again stood on the river-bank. He had been gone barely five
minutes, and in that time he had not seen a human being. Now he could
not see the raft. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. He could see a
few rods of water, but beyond that the fog was impenetrable. He
shouted, but there was no answer. Perhaps this was not the place. He
ran a little way up the shore, and then as far in the opposite
direction, but without success. Then he returned to his
starting-point, and found the end of a rope. It was attached to a
tree, and had been cut. It was a bit of the line that had held the
raft, and the raft was gone.
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