The others at once understood that this must be the case. In a short time they were on the other side of the wall, where the dog found the trail again, and led on while they followed as before.
They did not, however, wish to seem like pursuers. That would hardly be the thing in a country of law and order. They chose to walk rather slowly, and John held the dog by a strap which he had brought with him. They soon found the walk much longer than they had anticipated, and began to regret that they had not come in a carriage. They had gone too far, however, to remedy this now, so they resolved to continue on their way as they were.
“Gad!” said John, who felt fatigued first, “what a walker she is!”
“She’s the devil!” growled Clark, savagely.
At last, after about three hours’ walk, the dog stopped at a place by the road-side, and snuffed in all directions. The others watched him anxiously for a long time. The dog ran all around sniffing at the ground, but to no purpose.
He had lost the trail. Again and again he tried to recover it. But his blood-thirsty instinct was completely at fault. The trail had gone, and at last the animal came up to his master and crouched down at his feet with a low moan.
“Sold!” cried John, with a curse.
“What can have become of her?” said Potts.
“I don’t know,” said John. “I dare say she’s got took up in some wagon. Yes, that’s it. That’s the reason why the trail has gone.”
“What shall we do now? We can’t follow. It may have been the coach, and she may have got a lift to the nearest railway station.”