“I’m proud to call him my comrade,” added Step Hen, warmly.
“It must have taxed him a whole lot to drag himself up,” said Thad, “because he’s so heavy, you know.”
“A case of ‘root hog, or die,’ I take it,” Step Hen remarked; “and when he had to face the music Bumpus proved real game. You’re sure he made it, are you, Thad?”
“Heaps of evidence to that effect,” replied the other. “Rope’s gone, in the first place. Then here’s dried mud a plenty, showing that our pard was in this tree. I can even see which way he went, by the marks he left; and he was determined enough to cross the slough, for he kept right on.”
“Suppose you follow him in the trees, Thad,” sang out Allan, “while we hunt a better place to cross over without getting mired. We’ll join you later. Give a call when you’ve landed, and got his trail again.”
“Fine,” commended the patrol leader. “I’ll get busy here then.”
He began climbing along the limb, and succeeded in safely passing into the adjoining tree, just as Bumpus must have done. How the clumsy fat boy had succeeded in carrying out these capers puzzled the agile Thad, for at times it tried even his agility to make progress.
But Thad was delighted to know that Bumpus, upon being thrown on his own resources, could make good.
Before a great while his loud call announced to the others, who had just succeeded in finding a safe ford across the water and mud, that Thad was once more on the ground, and ready to take up the trail.
The little party started on again.