When the trail reached the other side, it did not enter the timber, as the boys supposed it would; it turned and continued closely along the edge of the ice toward the swamp at the head of the lake. They hurried on eagerly, watching far ahead for a sign of the animal itself. Several times it had stopped to overturn small logs in its search for prey. From what Ben had told them of the fox, they felt they were on the trail of that wily creature. When they reached the swamp they became quite sure. They saw that the tracks led up to, around, and over each snow-covered muskrat house. They knew that the fox hunted those little brown animals during the winter. Then, after hovering about the borders of the swamp, the trail turned at a sharp angle and plunged into the shadows of the morass beneath the giant pines and hemlocks.
While on the lake the boys had not looked at the compass. But now that the trail was taking them from the familiar home ground, Ed took their bearings. The tracks led off almost due north, and, noting the fact, he replaced the compass in his pocket and bade George follow him into the gloomy swamp.
It was difficult trailing in there, and many times they broke through the half-frozen footing and sank into icy water up to their knees. The trail doubled and circled and wound in and out among the bushes and small evergreens, till the compass was of little use. They were changing their course every few yards. Ed thought if they kept the direction of the lake in their minds they would have no trouble getting out.
At one spot a crimson place on the snow and some small bits of rabbit fur told the story of a woodland tragedy. The boys saw where the fox had stolen upon an unsuspecting rabbit which had been huddled at the foot of a weed-stalk eating the dried seeds. A sudden spring by the agile stalker, and the doom of the rabbit had been sealed.
Then, after eating in haste, the sly red hunter had left the scene of his crime. His trail stretched away in a straight line till the border of the swamp was crossed, and then it continued up the side of a brier-covered incline. Arriving at the top, the trailers saw prints in the snow marking the spot where the fox had rested on his haunches to gain breath after the climb.
Again Ed read the compass, and noted that they were headed east from the edge of the swamp. They had entered an area of wild and unfamiliar country, and they were careful to take precautions against becoming lost.
“This is the real thing!” George declared, gazing about him in admiration.
“It certainly is; I—” began Ed.
“What’s that?” George interrupted, inclining his head to listen.
From somewhere a long distance off to the right sounded the yelps, howls, and whines of a baying pack. Weird and unnatural, the noise rang through the wilderness, and the boys looked at each other in alarm.