“Say, somebody’s cut a little path here through the bushes. Come on—it’s easy after you get through a little ways.”
The others followed and sure enough there was a faintly worn path leading off up the hill side. Some of the densest undergrowth had been trimmed a little to permit a fairly easy passage.
“How queer!” Alice exclaimed. “Somebody’s been here right lately. Funny they didn’t take the grapes—they’re dead ripe.”
“Whoever came here last crawled right in under those vines.” Katy’s sharp eyes had noticed how the weeds had been crushed down by some heavy body and that some of the vines were broken.
“You’re right—they have—dear me, I hope it isn’t a tramp!” Alice replied, a little anxious. “Anyway he wasn’t here today because—see those leaves he broke off are dead.”
“What do you suppose he went in there for?” demanded Katy.
“I’m sure I can’t imagine—to hide maybe,” Alice looked puzzled.
“Oh, maybe he was the burglar—maybe he hid the things under there—I’m going to find out,” and before Alice could stop her, Chicken Little was disappearing under the vines again.
“O-h—Oh! I’m ’fraid! Oh, Alice, don’t let her!” Gertie flew to the protection of Alice’s skirts in terror and Katy edged nearer to her side.
“Don’t Chicken Little—don’t—come back—there might be snakes under there.” Alice was worried herself.