“Of course I am. Look at that S in the corner.”
“I guess there’s no doubt about it. Now let’s see if we can’t find the trail.”
For some minutes, by the light of the flashes, they searched. A broken twig, a single imprint of a foot or an abrasion of the bark of a tree would be enough to give them the direction. And finally, a few feet away from the place where he had found the handkerchief, Jack hit it.
“Here we are, Bob,” he cried, “see that broken twig?”
It is one thing to find a hidden trail in the dense woods when one does not know where to look, but it is not nearly so difficult for one versed in the art to follow the trail once it is located. From now on they had little trouble in keeping on the scent.
“We promised to yell if we found it,” Jack reminded Bob a moment later.
“I know, but it would be the wrong thing to do now. In the first place they wouldn’t hear us and then we may be nearer the villains than we think.”
So they pushed on, now making fairly rapid headway and then having to hunt for some time before being sure which way the trail led.
“I’ve lost all sense of direction,” Jack said, after they had searched for several minutes, about a half hour after striking the trail, “but it doesn’t seem to me that we’re heading for Mount Katahdin. How about it?”
“I haven’t been paying much attention to that myself, but I think we’re a long way off the mountain trail. Unless I’m mistaken we’ve been heading toward Millinockett Lake for some time.”