CHAPTER XIX.
LOST IN THE FOREST.
Dick felt that he must advance with caution, having no desire to meet Joseph Farvel again, if it could be avoided.
"I may be able to help Menden and the others more by keeping out of sight," he reasoned. "If a fight is going on, I'll try to tackle the rascal from the rear."
No more shots reached his ears, and only the cries of the night birds disturbed him as he advanced slowly up the mountain path.
It was a dangerous trail in spots, and he moved forward slowly. His pistol was in his pocket, but right where he could lay his hand upon it if necessary.
Dick had gone a distance of two hundred yards when he came to a spot where the trail appeared to split into two parts.
"Here's trouble," he muttered. "Which path shall I follow?"
Getting down on his hands and knees he made an examination of the dirt and the brush on both sides. By the aid of a match he made out several footprints leading to the left. "I'll take that," he concluded, as the match began to burn his fingers and was dropped.
On he went again, the trail now leading over some rough rocks overlooking a second valley covered with thick timber. On the opposite side of the trail was a cliff, and the footpath was not over two feet wide.
How it happened, Dick could never tell afterward, quite clearly. He slipped and stumbled, and like a flash began to roll down the incline leading to the valley. Over and over he went like a barrel, and then came a drop, through some brush into a hollow filled with dead leaves and moss. In a few seconds he had travelled several hundred feet.