But the ground all about the tree was hard and dry, and covered with the dried needles of the pines, there was little chance of tell-tale footprints disclosing the direction they had taken. Suddenly a thought struck him and a moment later the shrill cry of the whip-poor-will rang through the night.
He knew that if his brother heard that call and if it were possible he would answer and he waited anxiously. But though he repeated the call several times no reply came.
“Either he doesn’t hear it or he can’t answer,” he muttered, “and I rather think it’s the latter. He couldn’t have gotten very far away in this short time.”
To hunt for him in the darkness of the night he knew would be the height of folly so, in spite of his anxiety, he did the only sensible thing. Taking his blanket he went a short distance through the woods and at the foot of a big spruce he rolled it about him, and after a brief but fervent prayer for his missing brother, he closed his eyes. But for a long time sleep refused to come. That his brother was in the power of ruthless and desperate men he felt certain.
“That fellow who was making the noise must have been acting as a decoy to get me away so that they could sneak up on Jack,” he thought. “And I sure fell into their trap beautifully all right.”
At last he fell asleep through sheer weariness but he was up as soon as the first glimmer of the coming day began to light up the forest. Almost the first thought which came to him as he got to his feet was that he had one of the pocket radios with him.
“Probably they have searched him and taken his set away from him,” he thought as he took the little case from his pocket, “but it won’t do any harm to make a try at it.”
Time after time he pressed the button sending out the call through the air. But no reply came and after a short time he gave it up. He made short work of breakfast and by the time he had finished it was light enough for him to see plainly. He at once began a thorough search for footprints. For a long time he searched and finally, just as he was about to give up in despair, he found what had escaped his notice in the darkness of the night.
The broken twig would undoubtedly have escaped a less keen vision but old Kemertok, Bob’s Indian friend, had trained him well to read the signs of the forest and but little escaped his eye.
“They’re slick all right,” he said to himself. “There’s no doubt but that they went this way but the big question is, did they leave a trail plain enough for me to follow. Oh, if Kemertok and his dog Sicum were only here. Then there’d be nothing to it.”