He motioned to the freight agent to draw rein and pointed to a deep track in a soft bit of ground ahead.
“It’s the track of our wagon sure enough!” exclaimed Andy. “I could tell it out of a hundred.”
“So could I, Andy. Follow that, please,” went on Matt, to the agent.
“It’s queer you didn’t see that track before,” said the driver slowly.
“The reason is because it comes from the rocks. 188 Barberry thought it best to keep on the rocks, I suppose. Maybe he thought he would get stuck in the mud with the cases if he got on soft ground.”
“That’s the truth of it, you can depend on it,” said Andy. “Hurry up and follow that track to the end, and we’ll soon have our wagon and goods back.”
On and on they went, over soft patches of ground, through low bushes, and around rocks and fallen trees. Sometimes they were close to the water’s edge, and again they traveled almost out of sight of the clear-flowing stream.
“We can’t go much further in this direction,” said the freight agent, when all of a mile of ground had been covered.
“Why not?” asked Andy.
“There is a big wall of rock just ahead. We will have to pull away from the river now.”