"Oi'm not faling well at all, at all!" sighed Barney. "An' it's caught we are in a place where such craythurs be! Och, hone! Whoy didn't we shtay with th' profissor?"
Old Solitary again flitted away, and they hastened along at his heels. Now he was silent of lip and silent of foot. He seemed more like a shadow than anything else.
For more than an hour he led them forward with great swiftness, and then they came to a small stream.
"You must cover your trail," said the old man. "Follow me."
He stepped into the running water, walking along the bed of the stream.
They did not hesitate to follow in his footsteps.
Before long they came to where the stream fell splashing and tinkling down the mountain.
"Up," said Old Solitary.
It was a difficult climb, but the boys were young athletes, and they would have been ashamed to let the man with the white hair and beard climb where they could not go.
The stream was left, and, clinging to the points of rock with hands and feet, the old man still mounted higher and higher. He seemed to know every inch of the way, which became more and more difficult for the lads.