“I’m pretty sure that nothing will happen in broad daylight,” was Ted’s final word to them.
“I guess not,” Bob had smiled. “We’ve got Drummer with us, and even if we haven’t any apples for him, to peg, maybe he can use potatoes just as well!”
Walking swiftly and heading in the general direction which Farmer Crane had told them to take toward Hogs’ Hollow, they quickly covered the ground followed last night by Buck’s squad and arrived at the cemetery. Passing around the walls of the country graveyard they entered the woods at a point close to where the man had escaped on the previous night and at once found themselves in a tangle of forest much denser and wilder than that which surrounded their own camp. The graveyard itself was on the top of the mountain and as soon as they entered the dark and cool woods they began to go down into a valley.
“Notice how the soil gets soft as soon as we begin to go down?” asked Buck.
“Yes, and I suppose the bottom of the valley is quite marshy. I guess that is why they call it Hogs’ Hollow.”
Ted’s guess was a correct one. At the bottom of the valley they struck a low, marshy expanse of ground that kept them busy avoiding muck holes. Tall bunches of weeds and marsh grass grew in profusion and there was a decidedly damp smell in the air.
“Cheerful place!” grunted Buck.
“Yes, not! This must be Hogs’ Hollow. Only the animal for whom it is named would enjoy this place. Now, all we have to do is to find the shack that this man Jackson lives in.”
This was not an easy thing to do, for the hollow was blanketed and screened by so many bushes and clumps of small trees that they could not see far before them. They had spent a good three-quarters of an hour wandering around when Ted sighted the object of their search before him on a higher strip of ground.
“There it is! There’s the shack we’re looking for!”