Thad did not waste much time in looking around, but proceeded to business. He had already apportioned his followers, so that everyone knew who his mate was to be.
“Allan, you and Step Hen take the right third; Giraffe, cover the left side with Davy; and we’ll look after the middle,” he told them, in his quiet yet positive way, that caused the words to sink in and be remembered.
“And in case we run across George and his pal we’re to give a yell; is that the game, Thad?” asked the lengthy scout.
“Our old shout that we know so well, don’t forget,” he was told. “An ordinary whoop isn’t enough, for somebody might let out that kind if only he tripped and felt himself falling. If you want me to come across, bark like a fox three times. In case you get no answer, repeat the signal; and if that doesn’t fetch me, call out my name.”
“We’re on, Thad; is that all?” Giraffe asked impatiently.
“Go!”
With that they were off, three pair of eager human hounds, bent on discovering the hiding-place of the tramps who had for so long been hovering just ahead of them like one of those strange lights in swampy marshes, a jack-o’-lantern they call it, that keeps eluding your grasp, now appearing here, and then vanishing, to crop up suddenly in another place.
To begin with it seemed easy enough to move along. The scrub was not very dense at the upper end of the island, for some reason or other, but seemed to get heavier the further they advanced.
Acting on the suggestions of Thad, each couple spread out a little more as they continued to push on, although remaining in touch with one another. In this way it was possible to cover more ground than by keeping close together.
Giraffe was certainly in his element. He kept his gun-stock partly under his arm, and was ready to elevate the weapon at a second’s warning; in fact, as he prowled along in this way the tall scout looked the picture of a hunter expecting feathered game to flush before him, which he must cover instantly, or expect it to place obstacles between, as a woodcock always will.