"Why didn't we see that before, then?" demanded Jack, frowning as he eyed the tell-tale marks.
"I have looked a number of times," Paul went on; "but couldn't see anything. So you can understand it gave me something of a shock just now to discover the tracks."
"Have you reasoned it out?" asked his chum; knowing full well that Paul would never allow such a problem to remain unsolved long.
"There's only one explanation Jack, that I
can see. Perhaps you remember noticing a little side road that joined with this one about a quarter of a mile back?"
"Of course, I remember it. Then you think——"
"They must have come out of that road ahead of us," Paul went on. "That's the way they got in their licks. Somebody knew about how it turned around, and joined on to the main stem again. What do you say, Jack?"
"Why, of course. And now I remember hearing Scissors boast that he had the only map ever made of the Rattlesnake Mountain country—a logger charted it one winter, hoping to get his governor interested in some timber cutting scheme he had in mind, which fell through though."
"That settles it. They're on the ground first; but what do we care about that, if they only leave us alone?" Paul remarked, seriously.
"There's a call for you, Paul, from some of the fellows in the rear," observed Jack, just then. "I think they want to snap off a view of old Rattlesnake, with the troop stretched out along the road here. The sun is dropping lower all the while, and if we're going to get a picture we'll all want to keep, it ought to be right now."