Apparently these tactics failed to produce the desired effect, for they began to retrace their spiral course until they arrived at the spot whence they had started.
Still on their knees they went, smelling and sniffing. One of the fellows stood up and seized the bridle of Colonel Narfield's horse, forcing the animal back for a few yards.
"All right, Tenpenny Nail," said the rider quietly as the Haussa was on the point of administering punishment to the apparently offensive native. "I want to give him a fair trial."
Whatever spoor they had been following, it was evident that the trackers were at a loss. Again they went through the spiral movements, paying great attention to the trees and undergrowth.
Presently one of the natives approached the Colonel.
"Great One!" he exclaimed. "My snake is good to me. To me much is revealed. Neither to the right hand nor to the left, neither in front nor behind, nor under the ground has the White-Man-that-wears-the-Charm and his brother gone. They went this way."
And he pointed immediately above his head.
Colonel Narfield and his companions followed the direction of the up-pointed finger. Twenty feet above their heads the foliage grew thick and even. Somewhere in that green ceiling branches met from the massive trees on either side of the darkened road.
It was obvious that the branches were so high from the ground that they could not possibly sweep a pair of horsemen from the saddle, and the idea that Colin and Desmond had climbed any of the trees was extremely improbable.
"Rubbish! Preposterous rot!" ejaculated the Colonel angrily. "Come on, Van der Wyck, we've wasted valuable time in following the antics of a pair of intoxicated niggers. We'll return home as fast as we can. I'll send McFrazer post haste to Nyaruma and get my friend Wynyard, the District Commissioner, to send reliable native trackers. These blighters are unholy frauds."