"Is that you, Darry?" he called sharply.
But it wasn't, for no answer came back, save for the slight sound of someone going through the brush farther on.
"Dave! Darry!" shouted Prescott. "Here! Quickly!"
Then Dick dashed on in pursuit, calling again and again until
Dave came in sight and joined in the chase.
"What was it?" panted Dave, as he came within hailing distance.
"Someone running away from me," Dick explained.
"What did he look like?"
"I didn't have a chance to see. Let's travel hot-foot."
Yet presently Dick halted. Dave stopped beside him.
"We've passed him; he has doubled on us," uttered Darrin in a tone of intense chagrin. "We belong in the primary class in wood lore."