“You stay here,” said Roy; “give me the light, I’ll track him.” Roy was master here and Warde could only accede.
“What are we going to do when we find him?” Roy asked.
“We’re going to find out what he’s doing,” Warde said.
Nimbly, as silently as a panther, Roy retraced his steps to the shack. For a few minutes Warde stood alone, waiting, conscious of Roy’s experience and superiority in those more active arts of the scout. He had not the slightest knowledge in which direction Blythe had gone and his patrol leader was going to wrench this knowledge from the darkness. Off in the distance the unearthly voice crooning and whining in the night. The very air seemed charged with something impending.
Presently Warde saw two quick flashes of the light, then two more. He was glad that he knew the Silver Fox patrol signs well enough to know the meaning of that one. It signified “Come.”
“He went in his bare feet,” said Roy; “look there. See?”
SUDDENLY OUT OF THE DARKNESS SPED A FORM.
Roy Blakeley in the Haunted Camp. Page 124
Upon the soft ground was the imprint of a bare heel with the additional imprint of a diagonal mark upon it. Perhaps Warde would not have recognized this for a heel print, nor the faint suggestions of another print two or three inches distant, for a toe print. But these were easily recognizable by Roy and they indicated the direction also.