"It sure does. We can't——Gee, Whillikens!"
"What on earth is up now?"
"It's the broken-toed boot. Look here on the muddy bank of this little stream."
"By hooky, it is! We've struck the trail instead of ending it."
"What will we do; go back for reënforcements?"
"Not just yet. We'll reconnoiter a bit. See, the fellow went up this bank and—look there, Jimsy—there's a little footprint beside. He was dragging the child along."
With beating hearts the two boys entered the forbidding-looking glen. It was almost dark under the trees, which made the aspect of the place even more gloomy and desolate looking.
"This is a nice, cheerful sort of place," said Jimsy, in a low tone, as they walked along, following the bank of the stream, for the brush was too thick to admit of their walking anywhere else, which is what had driven the broken-booted man to leave a tell-tale trail behind him.
"I rather wish I had a gun," said Jimsy.
"We won't get close enough to them to need it," rejoined Roy; "we'll just spy out their hiding place and then go back for reënforcements."