She dropped the pan and ran out from the trees.
Everywhere was the bright moonlight--over the wet rocks, and sand, and glimmering on the slow tide of the river, but nowhere could she see Wilbur, or a form that looked like a man.

Then the moonlight glinted on something at the edge of the river.

She ran to it and found the coffee-can half in the water and partially filled with sand.
A wild temptation to scream came over her, but the tight muscles of her throat let out no sound.

But if Wilbur were not here, where had he gone?
He could not have vanished into thin air.

The ripple of the water washing on the sand replied.