"There is no slave of yours around these premises," replied the astonished farmer.
"A lie! My dogs tracked him to that tree in front of your gate! Those dogs never fail, Zach, never fail!"
"If the slave was tracked to that tree, Mr. Bowen, he can certainly be tracked farther."
"No sir!" growled old Bowen. "He stopped right there, was helped down by some one, carried away and hid. I have been in this business too long to be deceived by a little scheme like that."
"Strange that this could have happened without my knowing anything about it," said Mr. Howard.
"Well, it did happen, Howard. It happened last night, the trail shows it plainly—shows that he came to the tree and climbed it. The trail doesn't start any place near the tree, and this shows that the cussed negro was helped by some one."
"And why do you think he climbed the tree?" asked Mr. Howard.
"To throw me off the track. The stupid fool! I saw through the trick at the first glance."
"I think I can explain the whole affair."
"How?"