The trees, however, were of the old forest growth, standing near together, forming a solitude grand and imposing. The woods extended to the river’s bank, and the path which Percy was following led directly to the landing. He began to look for his darling and to call her by name as soon as he had entered the strip of forest, but he saw nothing nor did he receive any answer. Pretty soon he was at the landing--a platform of chestnut plank, built out to deep water, so that vessels of goodly draught could lie alongside it. His boat was there as he had left it, but empty. He looked up the bank and down, and he called aloud, in the end shouting with all his might--and his voice was powerful--but no response did he receive. At length he thought of looking for the girls’ footsteps, and he found them very soon. At only a short distance from the river was a place where a bed of fine yellow sand had been spread entirely across the path, and here, as plain and distinct as could be, were the footprints of the two girls, and freshly made. He compared them with the prints which his own feet had made on the previous day, when he had brought up his boat, and then with those which he had made on this present crossing. The result convinced him that the girls had crossed only a short time before. And they had not gone back! No; they had gone down toward the river, as their footprints showed, but there was no sign of their feet going in the other direction. Where could they have gone? He went back to the landing, and there shouted once more. Then he started upon a swift run up the stream. On the way he happened to think that there were spots where tracks would be found if they had gone in that direction. He looked, and found none. Then he went down the shore, and with the same result. Not anywhere could he find a sign beyond the landing. The girls had certainly made their way to that point. Aye, he found their tracks close to its inner edge. He stood upon the outer edge of the platform, looking about him, when his eye chanced to droop, and suddenly he caught sight of a white object like a bit of fine lace or linen fluttering upon one of the posts below. He got down to it as quickly as possible and brought it up. It was a fine, lace-bordered handkerchief with the monogram worked with crimson silk in one corner--“C. C.” Merciful heaven! What did it mean? Had she fallen into the flood? Had one of them fallen in, and the other nobly followed to save her companion? Again he searched in the new direction. The current in the river was not rapid. He could row his boat against it without great labor. Yet it was sufficient to sweep a human body away if its owner could not swim. The anxious, half-frenzied man now cast free his boat, and floated down the stream until he knew there could be no use in his going further, and he had seen no sign either in the water or on the bank.