The question was called forth by a peculiar action on Nattie's part. The lad had been standing intently eying the fallen monarch of the forest. Suddenly he tossed his helmet into the air with a cry of joy.
"What fools we are!" he added. "Why, this tree has been here at least a month."
"Well, what of it?"
"Mori, I am ashamed of you. Can't you see that a horse couldn't pass here? Look at those limbs and that mass of foliage. If Patrick is ahead of us he must have abandoned his horse. Where is the animal?"
"By Jove! you are right. The Irishman must have doubled on us after meeting that priest. Idiots that we are to permit a man like that to pull the wool over our eyes. We must go back and take the other road."
Before Nattie could reply, Sumo scrambled over the tree and advanced toward them.
"Masters, the red-bearded foreigner has deceived us. I met a man half a ris up the path. He has been working there since daylight, and he says no one has passed him except the priest."
"That settles it," exclaimed Mori.
"Come; we must return to the crossroad."
"I have also learned that this path and the main road meet about five ris beyond this hill," continued Sumo.