Again the youth dived in among the trees, or broke into a rapid run, going straightaway, but taking as long steps as he could. Then he zig-zagged, first to the right and left, describing irregular circles which assuredly would have led him astray had he not caught glimpses of the lake now and then, and thus knew the course he was following, which in the main was toward the cabin of Uncle Elk.
He kept note of the time, and just before the hour expired made a long sweeping curve to the right, which brought him back to the opposite end of the bungalow from his starting point.
“Hurrah!” he called as he bounded up the steps among his friends; “where’s Zip?”
“On your trail,” replied his owner.
“Don’t be too sure of that; I’ve given him the task of his life.”
“Undoubtedly the easiest one; now that you have returned,” said Burton, “you may as well tell us everything you did.”
Isaac described his course from the first,—how he had actually started twice, often shifting and finally making a big curve, still marked by abrupt changes that were sure to baffle the keenest nosed bloodhound that ever tracked a fugitive into the depths of the Everglades.
“You couldn’t have given Zip an easier task,” said Burton; “when he left here a short time ago he circled about the clubhouse, and in three minutes at the most took your scent.”
“But didn’t the two trails puzzle him?” asked the astonished Isaac.
“There was a difference of a few minutes in their making and he took the freshest.”