“They’ll have torches to give them all the light they need,” replied Osceola. “But they’re not counting on their eyes to find us.”
“Listen!”
Across the swamp sounded the deep bay of a dog.
“Bloodhounds?”
“They keep four of the brutes in kennels over at the stockade.”
“Think they’ll be able to track us?”
“I doubt it. We were walking on roots under water until we started to climb. Of course we left a trail up the tree trunk, but the hounds are not likely to scent it.”
“Then you think we’re O.K. for a while?”
“We can’t stay here forever. When daylight comes, the guards can spot us easily from the end of the road. This tree isn’t more than thirty yards from there.”
“The question being—where do we go from here?”