The rowboat soon reached the shore, and Sam and Tom leaped to the brushwood, where the trail of the vanished fisherman was plainly to be seen.
It was decided that Fred and Powell should remain in charge of the rowboat, so that nobody might come and make off with the craft. Leaving their fishing outfits behind them the two Rover boys struck out through the bushes, and soon gained a narrow forest path running through the woods that skirted this section of Bass Lake.
"I wish we could catch Baxter," said Tom, on the way. "It would be a feather in our cap, Sam."
"We must be careful. More than likely he is armed, and he won't hesitate to shoot if he is cornered."
"Oh, I know that. The most we can do is to follow him until we reach some place where we can summon assistance."
The path led deeper and deeper into the woods and then along a fairsized brook. They kept their eyes wide open, but could see nothing excepting a number of birds and an occasional squirrel or chipmunk. Once they heard the distant bark of a fox and this was the only sound that broke the stillness.
"It's rather a lonely place," said Sam, after a silence lasting several minutes. "I must say I shouldn't like to meet Arnold Baxter here alone."
"For all we know he may be watching us from behind some tree."
Several times they got down to examine the path. Footprints could be seen quite plainly, but neither of the boys was expert enough at trailing to tell whether these prints had been made recently or not.
"It would take an Indian scout to make sure of these footmarks," said
Tom. "They are beyond me."