It was the best spot possible for the fugitive to land, being covered with wood and undergrowth, extending almost to the verge of the river itself.
Directly into this Jim plunged and ran with the speed of a frightened deer, until he had gone a few rods, when he darted to one side, ran a little farther, and dropped flat on his face. For a moment, while he lay listening, he heard nothing but the thumping of his own heart, which he feared would betray him.
In the silence he wondered what had become of his pursuers.
Had they given up the chase, believing the fugitive was gone beyond recovery?
Jim had no more than asked himself the question when he heard them moving through the undergrowth, a great deal closer than was agreeable. Worse still, they were approaching him, and discussing the question while doing so.
"He didn't run far," said one, whose voice the lad recognized as belonging to Bob.
"No; he must be hiding somewhere close by; we've each a charge left, and we'll keep it ready to fire when he shows himself."
"Yes, he must be somewhere around here, and we'll scare him up before long," was the assuring expression.
It looked very much as if they would keep their word, and Jim was sure he would have to move his quarters to escape discovery. This was a matter of exceeding difficulty, for the wretches were listening for some such noise, which would betray their victim.
They seemed to be pursuing the hunt in a scientific manner, by walking back and forth over a certain area, gradually verging to the right, which was where Jim was crouching.