“Ha!” yelled the man at the top of his voice. “Do you hear that?”
The faint, melodious bay of a hound came wafted to their ears. Eben knew the sound.
“I do,” he said. “It is a bloodhound.”
“Ay!” and the hunchback brought his face close to that of Eben. “It is—and he is on the trail of the young man, who has found the young woman!”
Eben saw by the earnest expression of the cripple’s face he was terribly in earnest, and that he spoke the truth.
“Then come on!” he said. “Come on, to the rescue!”
The hunchback, with surprising agility, darted away through the thicket, followed by Eben.
CHAPTER XII.
THE DEATH PATH.
Walter and Katie fled as fast as the thick brush, the constantly-impeding grape-vines, and the soft and boggy ground would allow, but still the bay came louder and rounder to their ears, and they could but see the terrible tracker was swiftly gaining upon them.