"Same length, you see," flashed Dick triumphantly. "Fellows, that's Greg Holmes's footprint! You see, the print looks old, as though it had been made a couple of days ago. Yet there's been no rain and it isn't washed away. The footprint looks just about as old as the horse's hoof mark."
"Then you think that Greg took a carriage as far as here?" demanded Tom Reade dubiously.
"He was brought here in some sort of wagon!"
"Go on and read the rest of the page to us," begged Dan Dalzell, still skeptical.
"This was as far as Dexter, or whoever had Greg, wanted to bring him in the wagon," Dick continued, still scanning the ground, while employing his hands to wave away whichever of his chums attempted to come too close. "Probably Greg was taken somewhere not far from here. He may be mighty close to us now, fellows. Let's see. The footprint points straight ahead of us."
"Why isn't there more than one print?" insisted Harry Hazelton.
"Because Greg was probably lifted, so that he wouldn't leave too much of a trail."
"Then why aren't there more prints, especially of the man or men who lifted Greg?" questioned Dave.
"The men didn't intend to leave any trail at all," replied Dick, thinking hard. "Probably the first man down from the wagon landed on that hummock of grass there." Dick moved forward. "Yes, siree! Just look here, fellows—don't crowd too close to it and blot it out. See, there isn't a sharply lined footprint here, but there's a pressing down of the grass, as if some considerable weight had been pressed upon it."
Dick now moved slowly forward, the others on his flanks.