“I’m enj’ying mesilf, as Jerry Dunn said whin he tackled three p’licemen. When I git tired I’ll sing out, and we’ll make a change.”
Chester’s sense of justice led him soon after to help in shifting Mike to his own shoulders, and the progress was resumed much the same as before.
You will perceive the trick the boys were playing upon the bloodhound. Mike had not only changed shoes with Alvin Landon, but his new ones were not permitted to touch ground while they traveled a fourth of a mile through the unbroken woods. Moreover, for this distance the leaves were trampled by Mike’s shoes, but they were on the feet of Alvin.
The next step in this curious mixup was for Alvin, still wearing Mike’s shoes, to diverge to the left, while Chester, with Mike on his shoulders, went a considerable distance to the right, where he halted and the Irish youth slipped to the ground and stood in the footgear of Alvin, who was so far away that he could not be seen among the trees.
All this was prearranged, as was that which followed. Mike started off alone, aiming to return to the bungalow by a long roundabout course, while the other two came together at a new point, and made their way by a more direct route to where their friends were awaiting them.
“I wonder that Zip doesn’t show up,” said Alvin, when they caught sight of the building, and he looked back; “it is considerably past the hour, and he ought to be in sight.”
“It can’t be he was sharp enough to detect our track.”
“Impossible!”
And yet that is precisely what he did do, and later, when all were gathered on the piazza, including the dog, who arrived less than ten minutes after the astounded Mike, George Burton complacently explained how it had all come about.
“It was an ingenious scheme, Mike, and deserved success, but it did not bother Zip for more than a few minutes. If a dog can smile, he must have grinned when he penetrated your strategy. You made one mistake which was natural.”