“That all here?” asked the other, a little nervously, although apparently relieved to learn that it was not a wild animal he had seen on the preceding night.
“Yes, I’m entirely satisfied. Now let us find the place where those Indian mounds are, and we can get on the trail without delay,” answered Frank, leading the way.
It took him fully an hour to accomplish this. First they had to return to the spot at the foot of the bluff where the canoeists’ camp had lately stood. Here his own trail was taken up, and Tom Somers proved to the satisfaction of the others that he did know considerable about following tracks through thickets and woods, for he led them unerringly until finally Frank saw the two mounds.
“There they are,” he said, in a low voice.
Bluff pushed his gun forward menacingly.
“Where?” he demanded in a hoarse whisper.
“Oh! I mean the two Indian mounds, not the hoboes. Come over here and see the trail made as they went away,” replied his chum, quickly.
When the boy who had spent a year on a Texas ranch punching cattle saw the marks, he announced it as his opinion that they had been made by two parties besides Jerry.
“I reckon your chum was snoozing some when they jumped his claim. He kicked and put up a right husky fight, but they was too much for him, and choked him off. I reckon one of them must a-been a boy, and the other a big man, judgin’ from the marks. Then, when they had reduced him to quiet they just snaked him off.”
“That’s what I thought—the big brute carried Jerry on his back, for there are no signs of my chum’s footprints around. Now, let’s start off. I’m anxious to know the worst, no matter what it is!” cried Frank.