This proposal met with ready acceptance by all concerned. The lovers embarked and sailed away while the fisherman and the detectives set forth on their scouting expedition along the shore. But before starting, Ichabod pulled off his shoes and stockings and rolled up his trousers. It was his custom to go barefooted, and he had no mind now to be handicapped in the long tramp by the foolishness of footgear--suited only to town and the presence of Sarah Porter. As he passed among the dunes, Captain Jones heard once again Shrimp's lusty crowing. He whistled, but the bird remained invisible, only crowed again, with a note that sounded almost derisive in the ears of his old master. Ichabod grieved a little over the defection of his old friend. Then, quickly, his mood lightened. He would have through the years to come a companion infinitely more desirable. CHAPTER XXIII THE SEARCH UP THE SHORE It was fairly good walking up the shore, so that the two searchers were able to make excellent progress here. Much of the way the waves had pounded the beach until it was hard and level as a floor. But in places the sand was strewn with quantities of sea shells, many of them broken. These troubled Van Dusen a little, even though he wore heavy-soled shoes. He wondered that the barefooted Ichabod experienced no discomfort to all appearance. As a matter of fact, the old fisherman's soles were horny, tough as any leather. As the two journeyed on, the detective gratified his natural curiosity concerning things round-about by questioning his companion. He was especially interested in the small bands of wild ponies that appeared from time to time. These, like himself, were inquisitive, and often would stand gazing with curious eyes, until the men were within a hundred yards of them, before they would show their heels and go cantering off through the deep sand. Ichabod, though he answered at length all the questions put to him by the detective, kept up a train of thinking apart. He showed the results of it presently when he spoke. "Do ye know, Mr. Detective," he began, "I've been a-thinkin' a whole week 'bout that poor cuss what me an' you are a-tryin' to run down? Do ye know, from what that pretty gal says, I don't say as how that feller orter go to a jail house? Thar's a heap o' good left in that man yit. Jest think what he done out thar in the Sound a-savin' o' the kid! That wa'n't the act o' no beast--not by a damned sight!" "Yes, Captain," Van Dusen answered, "I'll admit that was not the act of a beast. But don't you think that a man becomes worse than a beast when he allows the craving for drugs to destroy mind and body and to prompt him to acts such as those of which this degenerate has been guilty?"