It was as plain as day just there, even though some twenty-four hours must have elapsed since the fat and ambitious Nimrod passed that way.
Giraffe and Step Hen were suspicious of the two rascally timber cruisers, and persisted in keeping their eyes constantly on the alert, searching every possible spot for an ambuscade, and holding their guns ready for quick work.
The patrol leader did not attempt to interfere, although he and Allan were of the opinion that the men would not bother trying to look them up. It gave the boys more or less practice, and did no harm.
And so the little bunch of scouts started to once more lift the trail of their missing chum.
CHAPTER X.
THE BOB-CAT.
The morning was half gone, and they had been making pretty fair progress.
“But,” said Giraffe, when Allan mentioned this fact, “if we’re only holding our own, that means we’ll never glimpse the poor old chap in a week, ’less he just drops down from being so worn out, reduced to skin and bones, so to speak,” and both he and Step Hen chuckled at the possibility of Bumpus ever coming to such an end.
“Oh! I don’t know,” said Allan. “There’s always a chance that you might sight him somewhere. You see, he turns every which way. Now he’s heading almost north; and a little while back it was nearly due east. Perhaps he may double on his tracks yet; we can’t tell.”
“And if he did, and happened to discover all our footprints, what d’ye think the blessed innocent would do?” asked Giraffe.
“Be scared stiff, most likely, and think Injuns must be trailing him, bound to take his scalp,” laughed Step Hen.