"Is this the place you lost the hatchet?"
"So I did: I'll show you the place." But he failed to find the hatchet. Subsequently Harry stumbled across it, but it was found some distance from the place where George declared he lost it.
"Let us try to cross the river. We can do it if we find a couple of logs."
At a bend of the river they found a lot of driftwood caught in the roots of a tree, and after some work a number of pieces were cut and laid crosswise on each other.
After the experiences of several expeditions of this kind, to say nothing of the exploring trips, the need of the bolo and ropes impressed itself on their minds. They were never without them.
The river at this point was fully one hundred feet wide, but by the aid of long poles the raft was not long in making the trip. After properly securing it they took up their weapons and at once made a dive for the interior.
The trees were fairly thick, and before going very far Harry checked George with the statement that there was game ahead, as he had heard rustling sounds in the leaves.
Both were now looking forward intently, expecting and hoping that some game worthy of attention would appear. Whenever they stopped, the animal, or what it was, would stop, to resume its motion whenever they moved. This was getting to be decidedly interesting, and at the same time trying to the hunters. The distance was fully a mile from the river. The noise which came from the slight rustling of the leaves and the occasional breaking of a twig was growing acute.
"Are we hunting or being hunted?" said George, under breath.
Not forgetting the Professor's story of the hunter's careful scrutiny of leaves, they adopted that plan, but it gave them no clue. Whatever it was, it was in front of them, but they were unable to get a glimpse of it.