For a short distance Sleuth sought to retrace the trail made by Fred Sage while hurrying homeward, but this was so slow and exasperating that presently he abandoned the effort and made straight for Turkey Hill. There the boys pantingly climbed the first steep slope, soon arriving at a clearing upon the hillside where the timber had been cut away, leaving an expanse of unsightly stumps.
“From this spot,” reminded Piper, “Spotty Davis was seen when he shot Berlin Barker’s hound. Use your eyes, Hooker. See if you can discover anyone moving in the woods or the open places down yonder.”
For some moments they searched the lower expanse of woods and clearings with their eyes.
“I don’t see a thing,” muttered Roy presently. “I don’t believe we’ll be able to——”
“Look at those crows yonder,” interrupted Sleuth, flinging out his hand.
Some distance away, near the base of the hill to the westward, a number of crows had suddenly risen into the air, cawing wildly.
“We’re not hunting for crows,” reminded Hooker.
“I’ve studied the habits of those birds,” asserted the amateur detective, “and I’ll guarantee they’ve been suddenly alarmed by something moving in the woods near by. Hear them cawing? Take it from me, they are shouting in crow language: ‘Man! man! Here’s a man!’”
“Oh, rot, Piper! You may be pretty wise about some things, but——”
“There he is!” rasped Sleuth, suddenly seizing his companion’s arm and pointing with the other hand. “I saw him—I saw him run across a little opening! He’s coming back this way, too!”