"Find anything?" asked Jerry, joining him.
Neither of the other chums would even so much as look. They had had an experience, and were quite content to let it rest at that. The absentees might take it into their heads to continue the treatment, if they wished. Perhaps they might not feel quite so ambitious after one chance to look at that grim white figure.
"Nothing to boast of. You see the ground is rather hard here, and a man might stand all around without making much of an impression. Still, it seems to me as if that might be the imprint of a shoe, and this, too."
He pointed as he spoke, and Jerry bent lower to look.
"I think you're right. Somebody stepped there, that's sure. Whether last night, or a week of Sundays ago, I wouldn't care to say," he admitted.
"Well, you ought to be able to place it better than that, for if you stop to think, you must remember that it rained just three days back."
"Correct! And that would have washed the footprint out completely, eh? But if we only had a hound here, used to following a human trail, wouldn't it be the easy thing to run down Mr. Ghost?" chuckled Jerry.
"It certainly would; but we happen to have nothing of the kind. I know of a couple of dogs able to do it. Colonel Halpin brought them up from the South. Don't you remember early last spring they were borrowed by the wardens of the penitentiary to track an escaped convict? They got him, too," remarked Frank.
"Yes, one of them; the other got clean away. I heard he walked in water, and in that way broke the trail."
"Well, the fellow who told me said the convict had some red pepper along with him. When he found the dogs were on his track he scattered this around. The poor beasts almost choked to death, and were not fit to scent a thing for days. That was a clever rascal, all right," said Frank.