“Think it’s he?”
“Maybe. You stay here a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Bob got onto his hands and knees and noiselessly disappeared in the thick brush. It was perhaps fifteen minutes before he returned as silent as he had gone.
“Guess I was mistaken,” he said. “I couldn’t find a trace of anyone.”
“Then I guess there was no one there.”
“Maybe not, but keep your eyes peeled. I have a hunch that there’s someone on our trail.”
“Mighty funny there’s no path up this mountain,” Jack puffed a few minutes later, as he paused to wipe the sweat from his face.
“There probably is only we haven’t struck it,” Bob smiled.
For another half hour they pushed on, now climbing over rocks and the next moment forcing their way through heavy underbrush. Suddenly Bob, who at the time was a few feet ahead, stopped and held up his hand.
“What’s wrong?” Jack whispered as he crept up to him.