He had about all he cared to do, moving from one spot where a stone had been freshly dislodged to another point at which the moss and lichen had been torn from a sloping rock by a foot that accidentally or purposely slipped.
There were possibly some little indications, which to his mind told that they might now be drawing near the place where the panic-stricken Italians were hiding. If so, Elmer did not confide this to his companions, perhaps because he might not himself be so very sure, but more probably on account of not wishing to waste more or less precious time in explaining on what vague grounds he founded his theory.
The trees still grew around them, springing out of spaces between the rocks. They were more stunted than those in the great forest that covered the richer bottom lands, but as a rule they served as a canopy overhead, and only occasional glimpses could be obtained of the country beyond.
By this time some of the scouts had begun to feel the effect of the climb, for there is nothing more fatiguing than ascending a steep hill.
Still they proved their grit by keeping on, as if determined to stick it out.
Even fat Landy Smith, while actually panting for breath, and mopping his forehead with a damp handkerchief, stubbornly declined to own himself in the "has been" class, as Red called it.
They were moving along what seemed to be a little plateau, at the end of which arose a cliff seamed with numerous cracks and scars.
Elmer had smiled when he cast a glance toward the rocky wall, just as if he could scent the end of the trail close at hand.
But he was already halfway across the level territory, with the scouts scattered back of him, when without the least warning there suddenly sounded a shot that seemed to come from somewhere ahead; and the report gave each scout a strange chill in the region of his heart.