"Had a rifle."
"And a handful of cartridges. And a handful wouldn't last a whole day with a boy on his own for the first time with a real rifle."
For nearly twenty minutes they proceeded in silence, following a track recently made through the dense undergrowth.
"Trouble is," remarked Beverley, "we've been acting like bulls in a china-shop on the previous stunt. If Dick left a trail we've obliterated it."
"We have," admitted Villiers. "S'pose we weren't born trackers, any of us. It's like collaring a skilled woodcraft man and sending him afloat. He would be all at sea in a double sense."
He stopped and swung the rays of the lamp upon a clump of palms.
"I remember this spot," he continued. "Do you notice how curiously these trunks shoot up? A sort of kink in them. Merridew and his party took that path; we, if you recollect, bore away to the right, and Trevear and Claverhouse carried straight on. If we bear away to the left I fancy we'll be striking a fresh trail."
There was a path of sorts. Whether any of the Titania's crew other than Dick Beverley had traversed it remained for the present a matter for speculation. The ground was covered with the decaying vegetation of years and showed no trace of footprints, although the undergrowth on both sides gave indications of being forced aside.
"Pigs, no doubt," commented Villiers, when Bobby called his attention to the trampled saplings. "Hallo! though; what's this?"
The brilliant rays of the Aldis lamp lighted up a small glittering object. It was a cartridge-case.