'Let's go back to where I last saw him. I have an idea.'
Retracing their steps to the rising ground, they examined once more the few yards which Haan had trodden. Beyond this clear space trees of various species grew somewhat thickly together. Hoole went up to them and began to look closely at the trunks.
'Ah, maybe he 's sitting up aloft a-grinning at us,' said Grinson, peering up into the foliage--'for a joke, like.'
'I never could understand a joke,' murmured Meek.
'Here you are,' cried Hoole, laying his hand on a twisted and knobby trunk. 'He shinned up here.'
There were on the bark scratches that might have been made by nails in a heavy sole. But Haan was not discoverable amid the leaves above.
'The madman!' exclaimed Trentham.
'With a madman's cunning,' said Hoole. 'Clearly he wanted to throw us off, and he deserves to be left to his fate. But, of course, we can't leave him to his fate. I suppose he went from tree to tree, and then dropped to earth again when he thought he had done us. It would be a hopeless job to attempt to track him through the foliage; but we know the direction in which he went, and I dare say we 'll find his traces not far away. Let us go on; scatter a little; the forest isn't thick hereabouts, and we can see each other a few yards apart. If we don't find him by nightfall, we shall simply have to give it up, camp for the night, and then make tracks for Mushroom Hill.'
Following his suggestion, they went forward in a line, looking up into the foliage, and closely examining the undergrowth for signs of its having been trampled down. Every now and then they stopped to listen; they dared not shout, but Hoole sometimes ventured upon a low whistle.
After they had progressed slowly for about half an hour, Meek suddenly sniffed, and caught Grinson by the arm.