“Ain’t that the aidge o’ the ‘slashins’?” exclaimed the deputy.
“Looks like it. Well, there ain’t any place there to hide. It’s all marsh or medder or underbrush,” argued the lawyer. “Anyway, keep your eyes peeled to see ’at he don’t come up again on the fur side.”
Twenty minutes later, the pursuers mounted the high ground concealing the valley beyond. There was a final quick dash down the gully road, and the low ground spread out before them. The aeroplane was nowhere in sight.
“Well,” began the deputy, “there ye are—all for nothin’.”
The lawyer pointed his whip ahead. An old man, apparently in charge of a solitary cow whose bell had attracted the attorney’s attention, was slowly coming toward them. The pursuers hastened ahead to meet the man.
“D’you see an airship sailing out here?” called out the attorney.
The herdsman looked up blankly. On a venture, Deputy Pusey addressed him in German. Some intelligence came into the old man’s face. Then he nodded his head and pointed north.
“He thought it was a big bird,” explained the deputy with a sneer. “And he says it flew low like a hawk.”
He questioned the man some minutes, and then added:
“As near as I can make out, the kid kept down below the trees and then disappeared in them. That means he probably kept going till he struck the Little Town pike about two miles north. He couldn’t fly into the trees. He’s took the Little Town road. Like as not he’s headed for Little Town.”