It took twenty minutes' steady progress through the undergrowth before they found a path. It was narrow and apparently unfrequented. Once a big animal--about the size of a bullock, declared Warkworth--crashed through the brushwood about ten feet ahead of the lads. "We must have tramped miles," declared Woodleigh. "I believe we're going round in circles." "I fancy we're nearly out of the wood," said the Scoutmaster. "I can feel a breeze. Yes, I thought so." The edge of the forest at last. It was now nearly eleven o'clock. Far below could be discerned the sinuous course of the River Seine. Nearer, and at a fair distance down the hill, lights gleamed from a small village. "That must be Le Mesnil," decided Mr. Armitage, after he had consulted a map by the aid of an electric torch. "It's all plain sailing now. We'll follow the river bank. It's only six miles to Duclair. Come on: Scouts' pace, forward." Encouraged by the Scoutmaster's example, the tired and hungry lads bucked up considerably. Alternately walking and running fifty paces they covered the intervening distance in an hour and twenty minutes, arriving at the landing-place at a quarter past twelve. Old Boldrigg, now sure of his bearings, followed at a leisurely pace. "_Olivette_ ahoy!" shouted Peter. There was no reply save the mocking echoes of his voice from the opposite bank. He hailed again, giving the Patrol cry. "The lazy blighters have turned in," he declared, and hailed for the third time. "Where's her riding-lamp?" asked Alan. "I believe she's gone--broken adrift, or something." Mr. Armitage already had his doubts on the subject. Bringing out his night-glasses, he focused them on the spot where the _Olivette_ ought to have been moored. With difficulty he located the vacant buoy, to which was attached something low in the water and straining in the strong tide-way. "The _Olivette_ isn't there," he declared. "I don't think she's broken adrift, or the mooring-buoy would have gone with her. I hope Roche hasn't got into a panic about our late arrival and gone off in search of us." "He couldn't expect to find us in the river, sir," remarked Woodleigh. "S'pose not," admitted Mr. Armitage. "But to get down to rock-bottom facts, the _Olivette's_ not on the moorings and we're benighted." "Perhaps she was in a prohibited anchorage, sir," suggested Peter, "and the River Police have shifted her." "No, I inquired if she would be all right there," replied the Scoutmaster. "She can't be very far away. Roche would have dropped the anchor when he found her adrift. Anyone too tired to join in the search? How about you, Mr. Boldrigg?" "I am a bit, sir," admitted the old man, who had just rejoined the others. "But it ain't no good hangin' on to the slack when there's a hammock waiting for me on board. So the sooner we find the hooker the better for everyone, says I."