"It certainly sounded like a cough," admitted the other.
"But I'm dead certain it wasn't from in front of us, but over to the left, which would be some queer," muttered the tall tracker, staring in the quarter which he now indicated with outstretched finger.
"I thought the same, Lil Artha," Elmer told him; "but then this trail twists and turns so much it might get around that way easy enough."
"Of course it might, Elmer."
"All we can do is to keep going along as we are, and some of us watch for signs of Hen and the man over yonder," added the scout-master.
"Then you don't think it'd pay to strike out to the left?" questioned the other, who seemed to be hesitating between two opinions.
"We would be silly to quit a sure thing for an uncertainty," said Elmer, decidedly. "After all our ears may have deceived us, and it might have only been some queer grunt of a frog, a heron fishing for minnows, or even a muskrat choking over his dinner. No, we must keep on as we're going, that's sure."
Lil Artha looked relieved. After all, it pleased the tall scout to have someone decide a puzzling question like this for him. Responsibility weighs heavy on the shoulders of many even capable boys, and they are only too glad to be able to shift it on occasion.
"Just as you say, Elmer, and I reckon you're quite right, too," always in a low, sibilant tone that would not carry further than a dozen yards at the most.
They again turned to take up the trail, which just at that point happened to run through some bushes coming up to their hips. It was easy to see where those ahead of them had brushed through, for they had trampled down the lush grass, and brushed aside the tender branches of the bushes.