Then of a sudden he began to examine the ground. It was soft in spots and plainly showed the footmarks of Jerry and the Si Peters’ crowd.
“He’s in trouble!” said the old farmer to himself. “Maybe some tramps have carried him off and robbed him.”
Urging on the faithful dog, Mr. Upton hurried along the path through the woods, leaving the horse tied to a tree.
It was an uneven way, and he stumbled many times. But he did not mind—his one thought was to reach his son and find out the boy’s condition.
Towser ran ahead, howling dismally at every few yards. But the faithful dog did not lose the scent.
Presently, through the bushes, Farmer Upton caught sight of a distant campfire.
“Hist!” he called to Towser. “Go slow, now! Down!”
And the dog obeyed and howled no longer.
A hundred yards more were passed, when a loud cry rent the air.
“Help! help!”