“Looks as though there was a path here,” said Jerry, pointing to a sort of trail through the woods.
“So it does,” admitted Mr. Snodgrass. “Well, so much the better for us.”
“Unless it has been made by a band of Indians or some ugly negroes,” said Jerry in a low tone. “I’ve read there are some black men who live in the swamps about here, and that they are worse than Indians.”
“Better call to Bob to come up front with his gun,” spoke Ned.
“No, it might alarm the professor,” replied Jerry. “But keep your eyes open.”
They followed the path, which wound in and out among the trees. Suddenly the professor, who had made his way to the fore, uttered a cry.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry, looking to see that Bob, with his gun, was close by.
“The mound!” cried the scientist, pointing to a large hill to be seen through the masses of moss hanging from the trees.
“It’s a mound, sure enough,” admitted Jerry. “Let’s see what it’s like.”