Venning, however, was standing well placed for a swing, and he let himself go, reaching out with his left hand for another hold, and gaining the other side easily. Compton, of course, followed, and the two stood examining the tree for sign of the path. The track certainly had gone through that tree, but there were no signs of recent passage, and moss had grown over the branches. They called down that they were going on, and, passing across several trees, found themselves once more cut off from the next tree, on which the well-beaten track once again ran on.
"Here's the place," they shouted, to guide the others; then looked about to see how they were to cross.
"We'll have to shin down," said Compton, "for there's no crossing here."
Venning sat down astride a branch with his back to the trunk.
"May as well rest awhile till they come up."
"That's a queer-looking branch underneath," said Compton, following suit, and dropping a piece of bark on a bough that had attracted his attention. "It's covered all over with little squares of velvet moss. See!"
"Suppose we lower our guns by the rope, then we can swarm down easily," replied Venning, who had seen too many branches to be interested; and passing the rope round the two rifles, he lowered them to the ground, letting the rope follow.
"I believe it's moving, or else I've got fever or something."
"What's moving?"
"That;" and Compton pointed down.