“I’m ready at once,” was the answer.
A little over half an hour it took the two friends to pick up the trail of the wolf-men, then they pushed on once more at their utmost speed.
The character of the country changed entirely as they advanced, the level plain giving place to a series of rolling ridges, which made progress extremely difficult.
Added to this, the temperature appeared to be gradually rising, and soon their bodies were bathed in perspiration.
“Warm work,” remarked Haverly, pausing on the crest of a ridge to mop his forehead.
“Too warm to be pleasant,” replied his friend. “I should imagine that we are approaching a subterranean fire of some sort. What’s that?” he broke off sharply.
A shrill scream, thrilling with agony, rose from the ravine at their feet.
“Look to your shootin’ iron,” said the Yankee; “sounds as if you’ll need it.”
He jerked his own revolver from his pocket as he spoke.
“I must have lost my barker,” Seymour muttered, feeling through his pockets.