There were three prints of just such a boot as he had described.
"You see the small heel print," continued Prescott, in a whisper.
"And you note that the front part of the foot makes a heavy impression, as it would when the foot is tilted forward by a high heel." "I don't believe another man in the town ever wore a pair of boots such as made these prints," murmured Darrin excitedly.

"And they're headed away from the river, toward the railroad! And look here---other footprints of a different kind!" "You're right!" cried Prescott, holding the lantern closer to the ground and scanning some additional marks in the soil.

"Coarse shoes; one pair of 'em brogans! Mr.Dodge had companions when he went away from here." "They may have been forcing the man somewhere with them," quivered Darrin, staring off into the black night about them.
"No; not a sign of a struggle," argued Dick, still with his gaze on the ground.

"No matter who Mr.Dodge's companions were, he went with them willingly.

Gracious, Dave, but we were right in believing the banker to be still alive! Coat and hat at the water's edge were a blind! Mr.Dodge has his own reasons for wanting people to think him dead.