"Here's another footprint—the right foot, but Greg's size," he soon called.
Not one of the Grammar School boys but felt the full force of the excitement now.
"Say!" exploded Tom Reade suddenly. "We've plumb forgotten to pass the signal along to the others in the line."
"It's too late now. They're too far ahead of us," Dick announced. "Besides, if Greg isn't far from here, and if his captors are with him, we don't want to raise too much of a racket and scare the captors away."
"I wish they'd go away, the captors, if they're around here," grinned Dalzell. "Maybe they have guns, and would be cranky enough to use 'em on us, sooner'n give Greg up."
"If you're afraid, Dan, turn around and go back," advised Dick quietly, as he moved slowly forward. "The rest of you keep a sharp lookout for more prints around here."
"Who's afraid?" snapped Dan, his grin fading.
"Here's another footprint!" called Reade, who had ranged slightly ahead of the others.
Dick was quickly at the spot.
"That was made by Greg's left shoe," Prescott swiftly declared.