Tom pointed out in the darkness on the road.  Two horses were coming toward them, each wearing a lady’s saddle and each riderless.

“There are the horses,” said Dick.  “But the girls?  You think—­”

“The girls came down here on their horses and dismounted, to go on board of the houseboat.”

“Well, where is the houseboat?”

It was a question neither of them could answer.  They looked out on the river, but the mist hung over everything like a pall.

“Dick, I am afraid something serious has happened,” came from Tom, ominously.  “Those screams weren’t uttered for nothing.”

“Let us make a closer examination of the shore,” answered the oldest Rover, and they did so.  They found several hoofprints of horses, but that was all.

“I can’t see any signs of a struggle,” said Tom.

“Nor I. And yet, if those rascals ran off with the houseboat and with the girls on board, how would they square matters with Captain Starr?”

“And with Captain Carson?  The tug is gone, too.”

“Yes, but the tug went away when we did, and wasn’t to come back until to-morrow morning.  Captain Carson said he would have to coal up, over to one of the coal docks.”

“Then some other tug must have towed the houseboat away.”

“Either that or they are letting the Dora drift with the current.”

“That would be rather dangerous around here,—­and in the mist.  A steamer might run the houseboat down.”

The brothers knew not what to do.  To go back to the stock farm with the news that both the girls and the houseboat were missing was extremely distasteful to them.

“This news will almost kill Mrs. Stanhope,” said Dick.

“Well, it will be just as bad for Mrs. Laning, Dick.”

“Not exactly,—­she has Grace left, while Dora. is Mrs. Stanhope’s only child.”

Once again the two boys rode up and down the’ Ohio for a distance of nearly a mile.  At none of’ the docks or farms could they catch the least sign of the houseboat.

“She may be miles from here by this time,” said Dick, with almost a groan.  “There is no help for it, Tom, we’ve got to go back and break the news as best we can.”

“Very well,” answered Tom, soberly.  Every bit of fun was knocked out of him, and his face was as long as if he was going to a funeral.

Dick felt equally bad.  Never until that moment had he realized how dear Dora Stanhope was to him.  He would have given all he possessed to be able to go to her assistance.

The mist kept growing thicker, and by the time the stock farm was reached it was raining in torrents.  But the boys did not mind this discomfort as they rode along, leading the two riderless saddle horses.  They had other things more weighty to think about.

CHAPTER XXII

DAN BAXTER’S LITTLE GAME