For perhaps half a mile they followed the tracks of the aged man through the snow. This was easy to do since he tramped over a place where the white crust was unbroken by other footsteps. The dog, too, led them by sniffing at the trail on the ground. But they had had no sight of Mr. Addison since he had disappeared into the bushes after shaking his fist at them.
"He isn't going toward the old house," said Sammy, after a bit.
"No, he's heading in the wrong direction for that," added Frank. "Maybe he's going to his own cabin."
"If he does," spoke Sammy, "we won't follow him there."
The boys were now some distance away from Camp Mystery. They had occasional glimpses of the frozen lake, but they had not seen any figure bearing a likeness to Mr. Jessup, skating over it. The hunter was probably still with his sick sister, they thought, and they did not quite know what to do.
"Look out for yourselves here, fellows," said Sammy, as they came out into an opening in the woods.
"What's the matter—did you see the hermit?" asked Frank.
"No, but there's a big cliff here, and we might slip over."
"Let's have a look," suggested Bob, pressing forward with Frank to where Sammy stood on the edge of a cliff which was about ten feet high, going down steeply into a little valley.