They're reading aloud.

And in the other direction, there are only some fishermen,--they wouldn't take it." "Well, somebody did.

Look, here are lots of footprints, and I don't believe they're all ours." Sure enough, on the smooth white sand they could see many footprints, imprinted all over each other, as if scurrying feet had trodden all around their precious wood pile.
"Oh, King, you're just like a detective!" cried Marjorie, in admiration.
"But it's so! These aren't our footprints!" She fitted her spring-heeled tan shoes into the prints, and proved at once that they were not hers.

Nor did King's shoes fit exactly, though they came nearer to it than Marjorie's.
"Yes, sir; some fellows came along and stole that wood.

Here are two or three quite different prints." "Well, where do they lead to ?" said practical Marjorie.
"That's so.