Whether this answer satisfied Lanky or not mattered little. Frank’s common-sense was so often evident that the boys decided on putting up rags to show their way, whereupon they used cleaning cloths and handkerchiefs from that time, tying them to trees as they went along, not too close together.
In the glen they followed the coveys of partridges around, taking shots when they could, but getting absolutely nothing, though Paul tried his former trick of taking last and careful shot when the birds were flushed.
Up out of the glen they finally came, wearied of running the covey “around a mile track,” putting it as Lanky did.
As they were climbing the opposite side of this hill, getting farther into the mountains, the lads stopped for a while to look at a mountain brook which was completely frozen over.
“What’s this?” Buster spied tracks in the snow at the foot of the cascade which the brook made before darting down into the glen below.
“Bear tracks?” cried Frank as he looked carefully at them.
The four boys studied them carefully, decided they might be bear tracks, though they had not heard of bear in this part of the country.
“However,” remarked Frank as they discussed the idea, “there might be a few spare ones. You can never tell. Anyhow, let’s follow the tracks and see what we find at the other end of the trail.”
The boys started after the tracks, seeing that they led forward and back along the same route, seeming to indicate that the animal had come for water and, finding none, had retraced its steps to its lair.
Frank led the way up the steep incline, watching ahead to see that the animal did not turn out without their noticing it.