"If it weren't for the fact that we knew they were on the trail, I should think they were fighting," declared Butler.
"Why don't you go and find out?"
Tad reflected over this.
"I'll do it," he decided. "You follow on down parallel with the trail, Chunky. You can't miss your way if you will keep just at the edge of this row of cane, which will lead you to the place where we were to meet the others."
"No, thank you. Not for mine. I go with you if you go. You aren't going to leave me here all alone in the swamp, not if I know it."
"What, are you afraid of the bears?" scoffed Tad.
"No, I am not afraid of any bears that ever walked, but I'm afraid of those hideous owls," declared Stacy, glancing apprehensively up into the tall cypress towering above them.
"Well, you are a silly! All right; come along then. We shall probably scare the game away, but something is wrong over yonder."
Tad took the lead, driving as fast as he could, cutting a new trail with the confidence of an old hunter in the canebrake.
They burst out into an open space, open so far as cane was concerned, and gazed in amazement at flying, snarling, yelping heaps of fur.