“To track the negro, of course,” replied Nick. “Where did you see him last?”
The little fellow led the way into the wood where Dick Denton and Skip Brodie had lost sight of Sam Cole.
At first the bloodhound was puzzled and seemed to have several false scents before, with a deep bay, he rushed away through a part of the forest thickly grown with brush.
It was with difficulty that Nick Carter and his friend made their way through the undergrowth.
The dog was lost sight of, but they were guided by his cries.
Suddenly they ceased and Nick knew the hound had reached the end of the trail.
At a clearing on the side of a steep hill they came face to face with a gigantic negro.
“That’s him,” whispered Jack.
The colored man was bleeding at the throat, where the dog had sunk his fangs, and at his feet lay the brute, dead.
“Was that your dog?” Sam Cole angrily asked, approaching the pair with a large, wooden stake in his hand.