“Wait till we reach some spot where the road is soft,” suggested Dale, and trudged along hopefully for quarter of a mile. Here they came to the edge of Benson Pond and the roadway was muddy; but the cannon tracks were nowhere to be seen.
“We’ve missed it,” said Jack, with something of a groan.
“Let us retrace our steps and look on both sides of the road,” suggested Pepper. “Maybe we’ll find out just where they left the road. They may have hauled the cannon right into the middle of the woods.”
They walked back slowly, scattering to both sides of the highway. But not a sign of the cannon tracks was brought to light.
“This is certainly a mystery,” sighed Dale. “The tracks seem to fade into thin air. Now they couldn’t make the piece disappear like that.”
“Not unless they blew it up,” said Jack.
“Oh, Jack, do you think they did that?” cried Andy.
“No, I don’t. I’ve got an idea and I am going back to where we saw those tracks last.” And the young major stalked off, followed by the majority of the others.
Reaching the place mentioned, Jack began a close inspection of the ground. Then he moved on slowly, looking first at the ground and then at the trees overhead. Thus he covered several hundred feet, stopping at a spot where the roadbed was a solid mass of rock.
“I’ve found the cannon!” he cried suddenly.