It was now two hours and more since they had started on this new trail. Before this time no doubt the posse must have reached the deserted hide-out, and learned that the birds had flown. Yes, it was even possible that they were coming along the plain trail the seven scouts had left behind them.
Figuring then that the bulky Chief and his men would not exceed their own rate of progress, they could count on almost two full hours' advantage over the others. That surely ought to be an abundance of time in which to carry out their plans, granting that they could overtake the fugitives.
Elmer had again cautioned them to keep still. The swamp was very silent where they now found themselves, and sounds could be carried to some distance under such conditions.
Landy was getting on fairly well, considering a number of things that he had to contend with. Indeed, Elmer meant to tell him as much when he had the chance; for he felt that the stout scout deserved encouragement. What might seem trifles to some of the others assumed the aspect of mountains in the eyes of one who was not gifted with agility by Nature, and had to carry a far greater weight with him than any of his mates were obliged to.
But here was Lil Artha coming to a full stop again. Looking at him the others found that the tracker did not seem to be bending over to examine the trail more closely, as had occurred many times before.
On the contrary, Lil Artha was now raising his head in an expectant attitude. Landy even conjectured that he must be observing a woodpecker boring a hole in some rotten tree-top, and was about to try and follow the supposed line of vision on the part of Lil Artha when he heard him say something.
It was only a brief sentence, but it meant worlds to those tired trail followers.
"I smell smoke—wood smoke at that!" was what Lil Artha hissed, as he continued to sniff vigorously.