“Red must have turned off somewhere,” he told the others. “That will make it a lot harder to find him.”
The four paused, discouraged by the realization that it might take hours to learn what had become of the missing boy. A cool wind whispered through the pines, causing Dan to pull his sweater more tightly about him. Red, he recalled, had worn no jacket. Unless they found him soon, he might actually suffer from cold.
“Listen!” commanded Brad suddenly. “I thought I heard something!”
The four stood perfectly still, listening. Overhead an owl hooted, but there was no other unusual sound.
“I was certain I heard something,” Brad muttered, ashamed to have aroused false hope. “It sounded like someone running. Guess I imagined it.”
“We’ll have to go back a ways and try to pick up Red’s trail again,” Mr. Hatfield said. “I only hope my flashlight holds out.”
The searchers turned around, but scarcely had they gone a dozen yards, than Brad exclaimed:
“There! I heard it again! Someone is running through the underbrush!”
The other three had halted to listen.
“You’re right, Brad!” exclaimed Mr. Hatfield. “It must be Red!”