"I see something around the bend!" cried Mark. "Unless I am mistaken, it's the scow!"
"You are right, Mark. But we'll have to walk around a long distance to get to her. Here is a cove ahead."
They left the river bank, intending to skirt the cove Bob had mentioned. The brushwood was thick, and further on they had to pass several low-hanging trees.
"Hark!" called Mark, suddenly. "Am I mistaken, or did I hear a dog barking?"
They listened, and made out the deep baying of a hound. Then came more baying from another hound.
"Hounds, and they are after us!" said Bob. "I don't like this. They may not be friendly."
"Here they come!" answered Mark, catching sight of the animals between the trees. "Gracious! I believe they are bloodhounds!"
"Up into a tree with you, quick!" said Bob, and ran to the nearest limb. He swung himself up with ease and then pulled Mark after him.
They had scarcely reached the top of the limb when two bloodhounds came running up, followed by a third and then a fourth. They were ugly-looking animals, and standing at the foot of the tree they glared up savagely at the boys.
"Ugh! They mean business," said Mark. "Get away from here!" And he shook his hand at the dogs, which made them bay loudly and show their teeth.