Some such thoughts must have been running through Gourmand’s mind at the same time, for he found time to remark—
“Shall we seek for police assistance, cap’n?”
“Hang the police!” cried Fitzroy. “In a case like this they would only be in the way. ‘Sharp’ is the word, my friend, and they don’t know the meaning of it. If this good dog of ours gets me alongside the scoundrels who have stolen my poor Peggy we won’t need policemen, Gourmand, nor handcuffs either. It will be a dear day’s work for them!”
On and on the party went, hour after hour, and it was evident that the kidnappers were making all the speed possible, for wherever the road made a sweep the trail left it, taking a direct course across the heather until on the road once more.
Excitement kept the pursuers up, and they thought neither of sleep nor of hunger.
The trail now left the main road and was picked up again in the adjoining wood. But now for the first time honest Ralph seemed puzzled. He made wide circles, sometimes at a trot, sometimes slowly, as if considering and studying every inch of ground.
There was no doubt, therefore, that for some reason or other the men had separated for a time. The raison d’etre was soon apparent for the dog rushed suddenly on ahead, left the wood and climbed a small hill or knoll, then came as quickly back and took up the old trail.
It was evident enough one of the men had gone up that hill for the purpose of taking his bearings or looking ahead for something.
In less than another half hour, on rounding the corner of a hill, the trail now leading along a mere foot-path, they came in sight of a solitary hut or shieling, no doubt the sheltering bield belonging to some shepherd, and not far below this was a river.
The hound made straight for the door of the little hut and paused.