There was no doubt about it, the wreckers were not there, and the indications were that they had betaken themselves to some other location.

When the men flashed the pocket electric lamps they had brought with them, the little opening at the top of the cliff was well illuminated.

“Nothing doing!” exclaimed Joe, regretfully.

“They must have skipped out right after they chased us,” decided Blake.

“And they went in a hurry, too,” declared Tom Cardiff.

“What makes you think so?” asked one of the government officers.

“Look at how this stone pile, which they intended to use as a base for their lantern, is disturbed, and pulled apart,” went on the assistant lighthouse keeper, as he flashed his torch on it. “I’ll wager, boys, that when you saw it, with that contrivance atop by which they hoped to fool some vessels, this stone pile was well built up; wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Blake, “it was.”

“Because,” went on Tom Cardiff, “it would have to be so to make their light steady, to give the impression that it was one of the regular government lights. They were going to work a shutter, you boys say, to give the impression of a revolving light, and that would make it necessary to have a firm foundation.

“And yet now the whole top of this stone pile is torn apart, showing that they must have ripped out whatever they had here to hold the lantern. They got away in a hurry, is my opinion.”

“And I guess we’ll all have to agree,” put in the life saver. “The question is—where did they go?”

“And that’s a question we’ve got to answer,” added Tom Cardiff. “We’ve got to get on the trail.”

“Why so?” asked the life saver. “If you’ve driven ’em off, so they can’t try any of their dastardly tricks to lure vessels ashore, isn’t that all you want? You’ve spoiled their game.”

“Yes!” cried Tom Cardiff, “we’ve spoiled it for this one place, but they’ll be at it somewhere else.”

“What do you mean?” asked Joe.

“I mean that they’ve gone somewhere else!” exclaimed the assistant keeper. “They’ve made tracks away from here, but they’ve gone to some other place to set up their light, and try the same thing they were going to try here. It’s our duty to keep after ’em, and break up the gang!”

“That’s right!” cried Mr. Wilton. “There’s no telling what damage they might do, if left alone. Why, they might even get to some place where large passenger steamers pass, and wreck one of them, though mostly they aim to pick out a spot where small cargo boats would be lured on the rocks. We’ve got to keep after ’em!”

“Then come on!” cried Joe. He was fired with enthusiasm, not only to capture the wreckers for the purpose of protecting human life and property, but he was also eager to have the scoundrels safe in confinement so that he might question them, and learn the source of the suspicion against his father.

“On the trail!” cried Blake. “Maybe we can easily find the wreckers.”

“No, not to-night,” advised Mr. Boundley. “It wouldn’t be practical, in the first place; and if it was, it wouldn’t be safe. We don’t know this locality very well. There may be hidden dangers and pitfalls that would injure some of us. Then, too, we don’t want to stumble on a nest of wreckers without knowing something of the lay of the ground.”

“What’s best to be done?” asked Tom Cardiff.

“Do nothing to-night,” advised the government man. “To-morrow we can take up the trail, and by daylight we may be able to pick up something that will give us a clue. I think they won’t try any of their tricks to-night, so it will be safe for us to go back.”

The others agreed with this view, and, after looking about the place a little more, and trying, but unsuccessfully, to find clues in the darkness, partly illuminated by the electric torches, they gave it up and started back to the lighthouse.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Blake of Joe, as the two lads reached their boarding house in the little theatrical colony. It was quite late.

“Think of it?” echoed Joe. “I’m terribly disappointed, that’s what. I hoped I’d be able to get a start on disproving this accusation against my father.”

“Yes, it was a disappointment,” agreed Blake.

“And now there’s no telling when I can.”

“No, not exactly; but, Joe, I have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“What’s the matter with getting on the trail after these fellows the first thing in the morning. No use waiting any longer, and we can’t tell how prompt those government men may be. Of course they’re interested, in a general way, in making the capture; but aside from that, you and I have a personal motive; for I’ll admit I’m as interested as you are in proving that your father is innocent.

“So what’s the matter with getting back up on the cliff as soon as we can, and seeing if we can trace those fellows. You know we’ve had some experience after taking films of those Indians, and can follow signs pretty well.”

“I’m with you, Blake!” cried Joe. “We’ll do it. I guess Mr. Ringold will let us off when he knows how important it is.”

They spoke of the matter to the theatrical man early the next morning, and he readily agreed to let them continue the work of trying to capture the wreckers.

“Go ahead, boys,” he said. “Mr. Hadley and your lad, Macaroni, can take what films we want to-day. And I would like to see you get those wreckers. There’s no meaner criminal alive. All we’ll do for the next couple of days is to get ready for our big drama—I’ve planned a new one—and I sure will want you boys to help film it for me.”

“What’s it going to be about?” asked Blake.

“It’s a sea story, and a wreck figures in it.”

“A real wreck?” asked Joe, in some surprise. “That will be hard to do; won’t it?”“It sure will, and I don’t just know how to manage it. I could buy some old tub, and wreck it, I suppose, but I want it to look natural. While I don’t wish anyone bad luck, I do wish, if a wreck had to happen, that it would come about here, so we could get moving pictures of it. But I don’t suppose I’ll have any such good luck.

“However, I’ll have to think about this. Now you boys can have a couple of days off, if you like, and I hope you’ll find those miscreants.”

“I wish we could get you some moving pictures of them,” spoke Blake; “but I’m afraid it’s out of the question.”

The boys were soon at the scene of the disappointment the night before. Daylight revealed more clearly the haste with which the wreckers had removed their false lantern. Stones were scattered about, as were bits of broken wood, wire, rope and other accessories.

“Now,” said Joe, after they had looked about, “the thing to do is to trail them.”

“And the first thing is to get a clue,” added Blake.

They looked about, using the knowledge they had gained from being with the cowboy the time they filmed the pictures of the Moqui Indians. For some time their efforts were without success. They cast about in all directions, looking for some lead that would tell them in which direction the wreckers had gone.

“I should think they’d go farther down the coast,” suggested Joe. “They certainly wouldn’t come toward the lighthouse, and they wouldn’t go inland, for to work their plan they need to be near the shore.”

“That’s right, to an extent,” decided Blake; “but, at the same time, they may have wanted to give a false clue. So we mustn’t let that fool us. Keep on looking.”

Narrowly they scanned the ground. It was covered with marks, not only of the footsteps of the wreckers, but of the men and boys themselves who had made the unsuccessful raid the night before.

“Hello!” cried Blake, suddenly, as he dived into a clump of bushes. “Here’s something!”

“What is it?” asked Joe.

“A piece of cloth, evidently torn from a man’s clothing. And, Joe, now that I recall it, it’s the same color as the suit worn by Hemp Danforth when he chased us. We’re on the trail at last, Joe!”