Plainly the only course was to mark a starting-point with a stake, and then follow round the margin of the swamp until he discovered the spot where the rider had crossed.
It was a tedious process, but apparently there was no option. So he resumed the weary tour with such hope as he could summon.
Arnold found the tracks after more than two hours' patient searching, as the dusk was beginning to creep over the forest. The footprints were more distinct now than they had been at the other side of the marsh, so the boy was able to make some rapid progress. But, as the darkness fell the work became more difficult. He had to stoop low in order to see the tracks at all, and ultimately he could only follow them on hands and knees—feeling the footprints with his fingers, just as a blind man feels the letters in his book.
He was becoming thoroughly exhausted. Still he plodded on with dogged perseverance. His knees were grazed and his back was aching, especially where the rifle was strapped; and at times he even stumbled and fell in a heap, from which each time he found it more difficult to rise than on the former occasion.
It was indeed a trial that would have taxed the strength and nerves of the strongest. When we remember what the boy had already undergone that day, we have reason to wonder that he endured so long. Still he persevered. Inch by inch he felt his path in the pitch darkness, crawling through the bush with only hooting owls and whining wolves for company, until at last, worn out and dizzy, his muscles gave way, and he floundered unconscious upon the earth.
CHAPTER XVI
A NIGHT'S TERROR
When Bob reopened his eyes, it was to awake suddenly with the horrible feeling that he was being watched by some hidden foe.