“We’ll all follow their trail,” the Cub leader decided. “But keep together, gang. We’ve no time to look for other stragglers.”
The Cubs moved along, eyes intent on the ground. A short distance from where they had eaten lunch, Brad came upon a heel mark in a little patch of black, moist earth.
Pausing, he studied the mark a moment. “From Chips’ shoe,” he identified it. “I can tell by that wing design heel mark.”
A little farther on Dan found Red’s tracks. A broken bush indicated the direction in which he had gone.
“At least they’re together,” Mr. Holloway said in relief.
“Those dumb bunnies!” Fred said irritably. “What made ’em wander off that way? Do they think we’ve got nothing to do but trail them?”
Mr. Hatfield, deeply troubled, paused at intervals to give the familiar whistle. No answering call came through the woodland.
The trail of the two wanderers, led on and on to the banks of a racing creek.
Mr. Hatfield paused a moment to study a pile of logs and debris brought down by the flood. The litter had accumulated in a narrow gorge formation.
“Notice how those logs form a dam across the stream,” he remarked.